


A Prince of Gold and Glass

by HarkaSun



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec and Magnus will be FINE!!, Alicante (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But I'm putting them through hell first, Dark Magic, Dark Magnus Bane, Demonic Corruption, Emotionally Hurt Alec Lightwood, Episode: s03e20 City of Glass, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I'm trying to rectify their mistake, Injured Magnus Bane, M/M, Magnus Bane in Edom, Marriage Proposal, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Podfic Available, Prince of Hell Magnus Bane, Protective Alec Lightwood, They were fools to axe the dark Magnus storyline, one of them literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkaSun/pseuds/HarkaSun
Summary: When Magnus sends himself to Edom in order to protect Alicante and the world, Alec must come to terms with the possibility that the man he intended to marry has sacrificed much more than his freedom.Meanwhile, in the demonic realm, The Queen of Edom finds a warlock, the half-breed son of a Prince of Hell whose corruption can ensure that the throne of Edom is once again claimed by a creature of demonic royalty: one who will become her Prince of Edom.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 46
Kudos: 150
Collections: Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020





	1. The Battle for Alicante

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020 hosted by the [Malec Discord Server](https://discord.gg/5nBgEp8).
> 
> This chapter is available in a podfic read by the wonderful [DarayFlair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarayFlair/pseuds/DarayFlair), which you can find in the 'Inspired Works'!  
> My amazing Beta for this fic was [Kakalebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kakalebox) who rescued me from many an error and from spelling Jonathan wrong 20 times in a row! (I got it right that time, yeah?)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The world is burning and Alec Lightwood has nothing but regrets.

Alicante burns in merciless tongues of red and orange. Demons flock the skies, shrieking and diving and when they land it shudders the ground. Seasoned shadowhunters lie dead and dying upon ash-dusted ground.

Alec has a bow in his hand, a quiver full of arrows on his back. It isn’t enough.

He had assured Isabelle that it would be okay because they were Lightwoods, because they could get through anything, defeat any foe if they just stuck together. Jace and Clary are nowhere to be seen and he and Isabelle had been forced to scatter upon being targeted by demonic creatures.

Alec had lost sight of her somewhere in the fight. Now there is only fire and rubble and death all around him. He is exhausted. His arms ache from firing arrow after arrow, and his confidence is frayed when each has little to no impact.

A demon swoops at him from the fire-tainted sky and Alec releases his arrows until he has no choice but to flee. It doesn’t help him for long. The demon knocks him from his feet and he rolls on impact, wincing at a sharp pain in his shoulder. Claws slam into the ground at either side of his neck, pinning him to the ground. The demon snarls. Hot breath chokes Alec, soot and flame in his face, and he knows that this is his end.

He wishes he could have seen Magnus, just once more. He needs to apologise for saying those things, explain that he didn’t mean any of it. He had planned on spending the rest of his life at Magnus’s side. He planned on dropping to one knee and presenting him with his family ring. He had hoped they might be married. Now, it would never be.

Now, Alec would die here under the claws of a demon, another casualty of this horrific war.

A crack of blue flashes over the demon above him, and Alec gasps in shock as it disintegrates in the air. He shoves himself upright, twists around to see his saviour. Magic flares from bejewelled hands, catching the light across the rings adorning his fingers and glinting from the pendants around his neck.

“Magnus…”

“Sorry I’m late,” says Magnus, hurrying to cast a magic-engulfed hand over Alec’s shoulder, relieving the pain there in an instant. “Go inside. You can’t stop them.”

“Wait, where are _you_ going?” Alec asks, but Magnus is already running. “Magnus!”

Upon nothing but instinct, he follows the warlock. Magnus is unfaltering, firing bolts of magic at demons that try to block his path. Alec helps when he can, notching an arrow in the string of his bow and firing at assaulting demons. It does very little, but he needs to be doing _something._ Alec has almost caught up with the warlock when he sees his sister, fighting for her life encircled by demons in an exposed courtyard.

“Izzy!” he yells, turning to a sprint.

Magnus shoots a fierce bolt of magic and it splits in the air, cracking into branches of golden energy to fell the demons with unearthly shrieks. Isabelle turns heel, panting for breath, relief in her eyes when she sees who approaches.

“Magnus,” she gasps in greeting, looks to her brother. “Alec… We’re too outnumbered. The towers are falling—”

“I know,” says Alec, ducking when a demon flies too close. “We need the sword. Have you seen Jonathan? Is he here?”

Isabelle shakes her head, turns with a flourish of her whip when there is a yell from nearby. The group turn to see Jace and Clary running to them. Clary has tears in her eyes and Alec grabs her arm when she stumbles to a halt at his side.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s happened?”

“Jonathan,” Clary utters with a soft tremor to her voice. “He destroyed the sword. He’s gone.”

Alec breathes out slowly, releasing her so he can pace back a little, running a hand through his hair. If they no longer have the sword, there is no way to banish the demons back to Edom. If Jonathan had disappeared, they had another problem to solve if they should live through this one. Too much is going wrong.

Alec looks to Magnus. Bathed in the light of fire and the shadows cast by overhead demons, his face upturned to the darkening sky, he looks almost more beautiful than usual. Alec doesn’t understand how destruction can suit a person so well.

Alec thinks of the ring that he returned to his mother. He knows he has to explain himself.

“Magnus,” he says, swallows hard when the warlock looks to him. “Your Father—”

“I banished him,” replies Magnus, almost before Alec can even get started. He misunderstands Alec’s intentions, but those words do make Alec’s anxiety flare.

The shadowhunter blinks hard. “Where did you banish him to?”

Magnus lifts his eyes to the sky, the firelight of the rift reflecting almost luminescent in his dark eyes. “Edom.”

Panic sparks Alec’s eyes and he parts his lips to speak. What he wants to say, he isn’t entirely sure.

A screech cuts him off and their harried group turns as demons descend on the courtyard. Alec grits his teeth, whips an arrow from his quiver and slots it into the string of his bow, aims to the sky in preparation to fight for his life and the lives of his family.

* * *

The world is afire and Magnus Bane feels nothing but frustration.

He is surrounded by his shadowhunter friends. Jace and Clary wield their blades defensively in front of them. Isabelle casts her whip into a staff, holds it forward in both hands. Alec holds his bow, the string taut against his cheek as he aims an arrow to the sky.

Alec.

Much of Magnus’s frustration can be traced to his boyfriend—or _ex_ -boyfriend, he supposes. The shadowhunter had cast him aside, spoken words that Magnus had thought a hundred times over since losing his magic, giving them voice. Worse than that: giving them _his_ voice. Alec had broken his heart.

Despite Maryse shedding light on the situation, Magnus is angry. It can’t be helped and, more importantly, it fuels his magic. He lets it happen.

Casting both hands to the sky, Magnus drops a little on half-bent knees. He lowers his centre, as Alec had instructed him during their first (and last) training session. Alec could never teach him this, however. Magic bursts from his hands and the demons burn, shrieking as they plummet to the floor, grounded now by Magnus’s power.

They don’t disintegrate. Magnus is careful not to expend himself like that again, knowing there are too many demons for him to attempt in destroying every single one of them. The best he can do is injure them, bring them down for the shadowhunters to finish off.

Alec gives the order and the group converge.

A seraph blade and dual blades catch the light of the flames, a silver staff is thrust forward, arrow after arrow strike the demon. Magnus lifts a hand to his head, fights off the dizziness threatening to cloud his mind. Even through the daze, Magnus recognises the danger Alec has put himself in. A long-range weapon in such close proximity to a demon is less than ideal.

The bat-like wings are beating, frustrated by its lack of flight. Alec nocks three arrows into the string of his bow, drawing it back to his jaw, glaring and losing his arrows when the demon charges. They bounce off armour-plated skin.

“Alec!” Magnus shouts at him, runs forward to erupt a barricade in front of them, azure magic cracking in protective energy.

An anguished yell rips his throat, the razor-tipped wing of a demon catching his chest just below the collarbone as his magic falters and flickers. Despite his efforts, he always knew there was little chance of him getting through this without expending his magic to the point of it failing. It doesn’t matter now. His fate is sealed.

“Magnus!” Alec gasps and holds him as he staggers, a hand supporting his waist, another to his chest in attempt to keep him upright. His palm comes back red when he lifts it at the warlock’s wince. “God, Magnus, you’re bleeding really badly.”

Magnus grits his teeth, casts narrowed eyes to the sky. “I have to stop this,” he growls, shakily prises himself from Alec’s grasp. “My father told me about a way to increase my power, to make my magic stronger.” His jaw clenches, lifting a hand to hold his wounded shoulder. “There’s only one place that can be achieved.”

Isabelle looks to him in fear. “Edom…?”

“Magnus, you can’t,” Alec says, reaching for his free hand. “Please, you’re hurt. I know you’ve been expending your magic too much. You need a medic.”

Magnus disentangles their hands, reaches to touch Alec’s cheek. He isn’t angry anymore, not even a little. “I know about the deal you made with Asmodeus,” he says, knowing it may be the last chance he has to say this and needing his shadowhunter to understand. Alec’s eyes narrow in pain. “I know why you did what you did. It’s okay. I know everything.”

“Then you know I can’t let this happen!” Alec insists, pulling him in closer, pressing his lips to Magnus’s forehead. “Please,” he utters against Magnus’s skin, ducks his head a little so their foreheads rest against one another. “We’ll find another way.”

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, his forehead pressing lightly against Alec’s own. “You have to let me go…”

Alec shakes his head, holding Magnus closer, as if he believes he can keep the warlock here if he just holds tight enough. “No,” he says, the firmness of his voice ruined with a crack of grief. “No, I won’t let you do this. I can’t let you…” He breathes unsteadily, closing his eyes. Apparently, he can’t even say it, even though they both know it to be true. “Please, just stay here with me.”

Magnus is quiet and still a long moment. When he moves it is to lean up and kiss Alec’s lips, soft and lingering and broken too quickly. Still, Magnus believes he could kiss Alec a hundred times right now and it would never be enough. He wants so badly to give in to Alec’s plea, to stay with him.

It can’t be. Magnus simply is not designed for lasting happiness. He has been cursed since the day he was born to live eternally, alone. Now, he will die alone. Alec should never have to witness such a thing; he doesn’t deserve that.

“I love you so much,” utters Magnus, kisses him again, for the last time. “I will always love you, Alexander.”

It is not something he usually says to his lovers because he is never certain he can say it truthfully. This time he knows. If only because he believes he will not live long enough to forget Alec—that he won’t even live to tomorrow—he makes his vow with confidence.

“I love you too,” Alec says and there is something like relief in his voice, as if he believes he has succeeded in convincing the warlock to stay. It hurts to hear. “I’ll get a medic for you, okay? Come on.”

Magnus bites back a sob. He slips a hand into his pockets, curls his fingers around the ring, that damned ring, and presses it into Alec’s hand. The shadowhunters immediately ducks his head, tries to look at it, but Magnus holds his hand closed.

Magic flares his fingers and, stepping back from Alec, he casts a palm towards the shadowhunter when the young man frowns and tries to reach for him once again. His magic traps Alec’s feet in place, keeps his hand firmly curled around the ring. Almost tripping over the abrupt force, Alec steadies himself, gives his legs experimental tugs and lifts a stricken look to Magnus, realisation striking his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says, closing his eyes and snapping his fingers, casting his other hand to twist a portal into being. “Don’t,” he warns the others as they move to run to him, his tone enough to have them halting. “Allow me this at least. Let me go with meaning.”

“Magnus, please don’t do this,” Alec begs him, tears in his eyes. “Please, you won’t survive there without help.” Magnus simply stares at him a moment longer, his eyes round and sad, and Alec’s eyes widen, shaking his head. Magnus knows now that Alec understands. It is his choice and his sacrifice. “No… No, Magnus, please!”

“Goodbye, Alexander.”

“Magnus!”

Magnus steps backwards into the portal, keeping his eyes upon Alec until the shadowhunter is engulfed in a haze of golden energy. The portal snaps shut and Magnus is met with the desolate landscape of Edom.

With the echoes of his fading strength, he casts a hand to the sky, wills the demons back to their home, to their new ruler of Edom. He doesn’t see if they obey before the blood loss is taking its toll on his body, buckling his knees and sending him sprawling to the floor of his father’s castle. He has to hope that his first and final order will be obeyed, even in death.

Memories fade across his mind, whispers of Alec lost to him as he slips further and further into darkness.


	2. A Pyrrhic Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alicante has been spared from demonic destruction, but at too high a cost: Magnus's liberty and life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thank you to @lawsofchaos and @PhoenixStar73 for your comments on the last chapter!
> 
> Check out the insanely talented DarayFlair's podfic in the 'Inspired Works' at the end of the chapter!

Alicante lies in ruins.

Silence is rare and near impossible and it does not grace the city now. Fires still crackle and flare, shadowhunters yell for their friends, their families, for salvation or death. A guttural scream echoes the desolate city, the harshest sound of grief and loss and _pain_ of which all shadowhunters have an almost innate understanding.

This particular one is new to them, however.

Alec forces in a breath, fights to come to terms with the fact that _he_ was the one who had screamed. He doesn’t know when his knees hit the floor. All he knows is that Magnus is gone, disappeared into Edom. Alec is knelt on cobbled ground where the portal had snapped shut just seconds ago. Tears run hot and unchecked down his cheeks.

Uncurling his fingers, Alec stares down at the ring sat in his palm. The capital ‘L’ in its crest, shining silver in the firelight, mocking him. Magnus had pressed it into his hand just before vanishing through that portal. Alec clenches his fist around it, holds it so tight that it leaves marks on his skin.

Hot tears burn his cheeks.

It is supposed to be with Magnus by now, glinting on his finger, standing out among the rest of his rings. Now, it is just a reminder of what Alec has lost.

“Alec,” a voice murmurs behind him and he closes his eyes, tears pushing free and sliding down his cheeks. A hand falls to his shoulder. “Alec, we need to go. Jonathan is still—”

“I don’t care,” Alec grumbles, lifting a hand to rake through his hair, bowing his head over the hand that holds his family ring. “I don’t care about Jonathan. I need to get to Edom.”

There is a moment of almost silence and Alec glances up to see Jace crouching beside him. “Alec, I’m sorry, but you can’t. We’re Nephilim… You can’t enter Edom without demon blood.”

Alec shakes his head. “I need to get to Magnus.”

“Magnus… he’s gone, Alec. I’m sorry, but he’s gone. You can’t stay here.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, no, he’s not…” He chokes on a sob, ducks his head again. “He can’t be…”

The rest of it is a blur. Jace talks, but Alec doesn’t listen. His parabatai coaxes him to his feet, an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Without his touch, Alec believes he might collapse on the spot. His throat hurts. He wonders how long he was crying before Jace had approached. It must have been longer than he knew to have his throat so raw.

He understands now that Magnus is gone.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

He loses himself in his mind, in the memories of Magnus, in his smile and his laugh, the soft voice he uses exclusively for Alec, his warlock mark, gold and gorgeous. Magnus was everything. He was kind and wise and beautiful and strong. The world didn’t deserve everything Magnus was. _Alec_ didn’t deserve him.

The institute startles him with its noise. Insistent voices with desperate questions about the city, about their loved ones. Jace steers him away from it all. Alec vaguely hears Isabelle call to the shadowhunters, gather them together so she can tell them what happened in Alicante. Part of Alec wants to stay, to listen to how she explains what Magnus did, how he saved them all at the cost of his liberty and his life, how he is bleeding to death in Edom with no one to help him.

The wound had been traumatic. Alec glances down at his hands, stares at the one still coated in Magnus’s blood. There is too much of it.

Hands are pushing his shoulders and he obeys on instinct, blinking rapidly when he manages to lift his head. He is in his room in the institute, sat on the edge of his bed. It feels strange. He should be in Magnus’s apartment. Although, he doesn’t know if he could stomach the emptiness of the loft now that Magnus isn’t there.

Jace is disappearing into the en-suite, reappearing seconds later with a washcloth and a towel. He kneels silently in front of Alec, gently takes his wrist to keep his hand steady, begins wiping the blood from his palm and his fingers. The cloth quickly stains crimson, leaves watered droplets of red on Alec’s skin.

Alec realises suddenly that he feels nothing. Jace is being so kind, so silently understanding, but Alec can’t feel anything towards him. His body is numb, his mind is filled with pain and nothing else. Tears keep sliding down his cheeks. Alec makes no attempt to stop them.

“He’s dead,” he says, half choked with grief and Jace looks up at him, the towel faltering on drying his hand. “Jace, he’s dead…”

“I know,” Jace utters. “I’m so sorry, Alec.”

“He knew he would die if he went to Edom,” Alec continues, his voice shockingly calm, blank. “He was too badly hurt. He used too much of his magic on the—the demons and the portal. He knew he wouldn’t be able to heal himself.” He swallows hard on an uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I can’t live without him…”

Jace shakes his head. “He did it so you _could_ live, Alec. He sacrificed himself for all of us. For Alicante… For you, because he loved you and he wanted you to live.”

Alec closes his eyes, lies down on his side, his legs still hanging off the edge of the bed. Jace dutifully unties his shoes and sets them over by the wall, gently lifting Alec’s legs up onto the mattress. Alec rolls to his other side, lets the tears burn hot against his skin.

“Take as much time as you need,” says Jace. “We’re all here for you, Alec.”

Alec buries his face in the pillow, listens to Jace’s footsteps retreating. The door closes. A sob wrenches Alec’s throat, tears burning his eyes.

It is unclear how long he stays there, but the tears never cease and the sobs catch relentlessly in his throat. He thinks of Magnus, replays their final moments over and over. Despair grips his heart as he realises that he doesn’t know if Magnus ever truly forgave him for what he did, for the deal he made with Asmodeus.

He just cries, his mind filled with images of his lost love, considering how he might have died.

The likeliest outcome is that Magnus bled to death in Edom. Demons might have gotten to him first. Maybe they killed him. Regardless, the wound Magnus had sustained was not one that he could recover from with depleted magic.

There is a weight in his hand—the one that hadn’t been covered in blood—and Alec uncurls his fingers, looks blankly at his family ring. He knows he should return it to his mother (again), but some whisper in the back of his mind tells him that he can’t part with it. This is all he has left of Magnus.

It is a grim reminder of his loss. He drops it upon his bedside table, closes his eyes to avoid dwelling on it.

Alec’s heart is dark and empty. Magnus is dead.

* * *

The demons of Edom flock the castle in irritation and confusion.

Their prince is inside, the half-breed son of the greater demon Asmodeus, who now commands this realm. A boy with cat’s eyes and multi-colour magic who they must now obey, the remaining blood of their absent king, the one who has ordered them to remain in Edom. Until that order is revoked, they cannot leave.

A darkness looms inside the castle and the demons shriek in panic and fear, understanding that the presence means danger and death. They flee.

Within the decrepit building, Magnus Bane lies in a growing pool of blood, the pallor of his skin an ashy grey, the sweat across his brow sheening in the firelight of Edom. All around him, the darkness distorts.

The shadows twist and shift, forming a humanoid shape, dripping with ichor. Clawed fingers stretch in readiness, a woman sheening with darkness creeping into the light, her attention fixed on the semi-conscious warlock. Despite his predicament, the creature remains cautious.

The tang of mundane blood fills the air, tainted with demonic energy. A warlock from the Earthly plane. The ichor-seeped figure stops at his side, looming over him. A crack of crimson energy comes to her palm. The light of it reflects from her black irises.

Magnus’s expression furrows in pain, turning his head. “Mama…” he utters, lost in the throes of agony and blood loss. “Mama…”

The woman stops.

The crimson dies from her hand. The fire-light sky reflects in her eyes when her head shifts to tilt slightly, staring curiously down at the warlock. He is gravely injured. His life blood seeps out upon the rock beneath him. The light from the burning sky makes the liquid glow darkly.

Kneeling beside him, the woman reaches a black, clawed hand to the warlock’s face, touching his cheek lightly. A single word forms her ichor-stained lips, a voice crawling and cracked in demonic tongue, a word so innocent but so tainted with the grit of Edom.

“Child…”


	3. Mornings Like These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec wakes alone in his room at the institute, lost in his mourning and desperate for revenge. Meanwhile, in Edom, Magnus suffers through the hospitality of a demon whose motives are not yet clear to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @PhoenixStar73 and @Love malec for your comments on the previous chapter! I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Don't forget to check of DarayFlair's podfic in 'inspired works' because it sounds amazing!!

Alec wakes with tear-stained cheeks, his eyes opening to a dark ceiling.

For a moment, his mind is heavy and unclear, and the memories can’t hurt him. Then, they come rushing back. Alicante burning and demons flocking the skies. His team all around him, fighting for their lives. Magnus and that look in his eyes when he stepped through the portal to Edom.

Alec looks to his hand, but the blood is gone. He vaguely remembers Jace cleaning it for him, taking care of him when he was unable to care for himself. It doesn’t spark anything in him. His mind and his heart are blank, grey clouds storming his emotions.

Magnus is dead and he will never love again. Of that he is certain. It has nothing to do with that ridiculous ‘shadowhunters love once’ spiel. Magnus was it. The warlock was the one great love of his life and no one would ever bring such joy or love to Alec’s heart for as long as he lived. He doesn’t know how long that will be. He doesn’t want to go on without his warlock.

Now, it is morning. Alec allows his heavy eyes to drift to the side, watches the sunlight filter in through the crack between his curtains, catching dust particles in the air. He hasn’t been here in so long. He spends most nights at Magnus’s.

Or he used to.

Rolling onto his side, Alec spies the ring, a soft shine about it as it catches the slit of light spilling into the room. He reaches out to skim absent fingertips across the circumference. For a moment, he considers wearing it as a token of remembrance. It feels wrong.

If he wants to remember Magnus, he will go to the loft and find something to keep (although, he can’t think of anything meaningful that Magnus will have left behind). If he wants to honour Magnus, he will keep his mourning to a minimum and he will live as long as he can stomach it. If he wants to avenge Magnus, he will kill the one responsible for his death.

Magnus was gone because of the demons, and the demons had only been summoned because of Jonathan and the soul sword.

The sword is gone—that is one less thing to destroy—but Jonathan is still out there somewhere. While he lives, Alec’s life has purpose again. A singular goal sears itself into his mind like a brand. He has to kill Jonathan Morgenstern.

A soft knock at the door disrupts his thoughts, so hesitant that Alec almost misses it. The handle clicks as it opens. There is a momentary pause.

“ _Alec…_ ”

A shaky inhale racks Alec’s chest and he curls his fingers into the sheets below him, telling himself that it can’t be who he thinks, who he hears in his desperate, grief-stricken mind.

“Alec…?” Now, he recognises his parabatai’s voice, whispering into the room. His heart sinks low in his chest. “Alec, are you awake?”

Alec takes a moment before he responds. He hates how timid Jace sounds, like the slightest hint of anything other than softness will break him. “I’m awake,” he replies, his voice quiet to match Jace’s own. Really, it is to avoid his voice cracking with grief.

The door closes and footsteps approach softly. The mattress dips at Alec’s back as Jace sits on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Alec doesn’t dignify that with a response. “What did you come to say?”

His parabatai hesitates a moment, releasing a soft sigh. “Jonathan is attacking institutes all across the world. He’s killing people… You don’t have to worry about anything. We can handle it. I just wanted to let you know what’s going on. If we find him, I’ll let you know where we’re going. I just didn’t want you to worry if you can’t find us.”

His hand comes to lightly rest upon Alec’s upper arm, squeezing a little.

“I’ll let you rest… Don’t worry about anything, okay? I’ll come back to check on you in a few hours.”

Footsteps retreat and Alec squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter. “No,” he says shakily, pushes himself up. “We have to find him. I’m going to find him.”

Jace looks at him sadly from where he is paused at the door, shaking his head a little. “Alec, I don’t know if that’s a good idea… You remember what I was like when I thought we’d lost Clary…? It’s never a good idea to go on missions after a loss like that… You need time to mourn.”

“I am not you,” Alec insists, too stricken with grief to be concerned with his wording or his tact, “and I’ll kill that asshole with my bare hands if I have to.” He clenches his jaw, the dark anger in his eyes apparently enough to prevent Jace from arguing with him. “He killed Magnus… I’m ending this.”

* * *

Magnus wakes drenched in sweat, his eyes opening to a fiery sky.

Confusion fogs his mind, his last memory being of Alec and the fear in his expression before he was swallowed by a closing portal. The heat of Edom floods back to him and he startles halfway upright. Sweat pricks his skin, his head swimming with darkness as a deep ache pulses through his shoulder, and he collapses back once again.

“Relax,” a voice soothes, a clawed hand reaching for his cheek and Magnus wrenches away from it, startled by such an unexpected presence. He had thought he was alone. “Forgive me… I forget your mortal side makes you fearful.”

Magnus shakily lifts his head, his eyes narrowing at the woman sat beside him. “Lilith,” he mumbles upon recognition. She has taken human form. “What are you…” he begins and swallows hard, fighting the hoarse rattle of his voice. “Why aren’t I dead? I was wounded and helpless… Why wouldn’t you have killed me?”

Lilith tilts her head slightly, softly. “Did you want me to kill you?”

“Well, no, I suppose not.”

“Then you should be grateful,” says Lilith simply, glances skyward. “Your father wasn’t one for ceilings I see… Gives you a nice view of that rift you’re keeping closed.” She turns back to him, a strange glint to her eyes. “Impressive how you managed to maintain the shield while you were unconscious.”

“Instinct,” Magnus explains concisely, lifts a hand to wipe at the sweat sheening across his brow. “What’s your point?”

Lilith curls her lip in a half-smile. “Well, I had hoped that you may… see your way to withholding your magic for a second. So that I might slip through to earth.”

Magnus huffs. “Why would I do that?”

Lilith tilts her head, apparently trying to hide her irritation. Unluckily for her, Magnus is uncommonly aware of emotions even while halfway to hypovolemic shock. “So I can murder that traitorous little wretch I call a son.” Magnus brow pinches and lifts his eyes to the sky, fights the dizzying roll of his eyes. “Wait here,” Lilith says.

Magnus wants to protest, tries desperately to lift his head. He doesn’t want Lilith out of his sight, but she has melted into the shadows before he can deter her. Curling his hands into fists at his sides, Magnus has no choice but to wait for her return.

“Here,” Lilith says, sitting herself on the edge of the bed with a roughly cut glass filled with black liquid in her manicured hand. Magnus eyes her with suspicion. “I’ve brought you something to drink. You must be thirsty.”

“What is it?” asks Magnus, though he knows that he can’t fight her even if he doesn’t like what he sees. She could easily force the strange liquid down his throat with him being so weak. Compliance will be easier for now.

Lilith apparently makes the judgement to avoid that question. “It will help with the pain,” she says, a hand coming to guide Magnus’s head, tilting the rim to his chapped and broken lips.

Magnus recoils initially from the first taste, ash and blood filling his mouth, but he swallows and takes another mouthful as Lilith coaxes him. As overwhelming as the taste is, the liquid is smooth and sates his thirst. His lips are stained black when she lets him pause for air, his eyes narrowed in distaste.

“You’re doing well,” she utters. “Finish this glass and sleep.”

“Why are you doing this?” Magnus asks, tries to push the glass away, but he is too weak.

Lilith doesn’t answer. She feeds him another mouthful of the black liquid. Magnus takes it gladly. There is something addicting about it, something needful tugging at his gut. An overwhelming tremor racks his body suddenly, trails a drop of hot liquid down from the corner of his mouth.

The rim of the glass disappears from his lip. His muscles coil tight without his consent, shuddering in an uncontrolled seizure. Lilith braces a hand below his collarbone. Her strength pins him to the bed. Magnus clutches her wrist as tightly as he can manage while being so racked with tremors.

“You will grow used to it,” says Lilith, watching the ichor pulse beneath Magnus’s skin, lighting his veins black. “Be strong. It will pass.”

Magnus clenches his jaw through it, doesn’t try to fight the shudders as they ravage his body, knowing that it will be better to just let it happen. If he tries to fight, he will just make it worse for himself. He doesn’t know how long he lies there simply letting it happen.

When it ends, his limbs are limp and lifeless and—no matter how hard he tries—he can’t move them. There is an ache all through his bones, a kind of cold that leaves him weak and shaking. He is helpless. Vulnerable. It’s the worse feeling in the world.

“Rest now,” Lilith says, though her voice is fading. “When you wake, you can have some more. It will make you strong.”

The confusion of hot and cold fogs his mind and darkness presses in hard against the back of his eyes. Magnus slips gratefully into the lull of unconsciousness.


	4. The Sins of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith guards Magnus as he sleeps off his injury, allowing her ichor to fester inside him and burying his mundane blood beneath that of demonic royalty.
> 
> An unexpected visit has the Queen of Edom re-evaluating her priorities. As keen as she is to seek out her revenge on Jonathan, this is her chance to test Magnus's strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to @Love malec, @PhoenixStar73, @Sonia7atm for your comments on the last chapter! I treasure each and every one of your kind words so much; it's the highlight of my days!

There are no days in Edom, no nights to be calculated. The fires burn every hour and never falter. The light is always dim and dark with a hum of uncomfortable heat.

Despite his seizing, despite the dark and the heat, the warlock voices no complaint. Lilith knows what he is feeling, knows what drinking her ichor is doing to him—Jonathan had expressed his thoughts noisily until she had forced silence upon him.

Magnus is not Jonathan, however. He is quiet and compliant. Sitting upright against the silk pillows, Magnus takes the spasms as they come, clenching his jaw against them, but never screaming or crying.

This one is stronger than her first, Lilith realises as she feeds him another glass of ichor, watching him drink until black runnels trail from the corners of his mouth. There is no fighting, no screaming or feeble crying. He is hungry for it like a babe for milk.

Still, Magnus sleeps somewhat regularly. Lilith understands how mundanes, even part mundanes like the warlock, value their schedules. She lets him sleep after every seizure. It is impressive that he is able to rest at all with the heat clinging to him and the ichor settling in his blood, racking him with shudders every few minutes. Jonathan barely slept the whole time he was in Edom.

The Queen of Edom stalks the crumbling walls of her castle, to which she had moved the warlock as soon as he was unconscious. She snarls at demons who venture too close, guarding her new child fiercely. His presence is drawing them in, the scent of mundane coming from him is familiar to the demons—familiar as their prey, but not as something found in their home. They come sniffing every so often and Lilith warns them away.

It goes like that until, when Lilith is hovering around the warlock as he sleeps, his body shaking in tremors and his skin slick with sweat, a new presence enters her home. She turns to meet it in the large entranceway, holds the golden cat’s eyes steadily as they bore into her.

“Asmodeus,” she says. “You sensed him.”

The greater demon sniffs disapprovingly, his head high and insolent and Lilith cannot help but consider how closely he resembles the warlock he sired. “You’re feeding him.”

“Of course,” Lilith replies, a slanted smile taking her lips, clicking her tongue when Asmodeus shakes his head in anger. “You never even considered such a thing, did you? You were content to let him retain his mother’s blood, but she was weak and now she is dead.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Asmodeus snarls. “His power is unrivalled and now you have taken his humanity. He is a threat to us all. I am only alive now because his mundane blood gives him faulted emotions. Mercy… If you take that mundane blood away…”

Lilith casts him a sly smile, humming softly and wandering up to him. “You fear him.”

Asmodeus meets her gaze levelly. “I know what he is capable of. You don’t.”

“He owes me,” says Lilith. “I gave him life anew... You are nothing to him now. I am all he has.”

Asmodeus startles a short laugh, but it comes mirthless and harsh. “He is not your son.”

A shot of dark crimson engulfs Asmodeus and he is thrown onto his back, swallowing hard as Lilith comes to stand over him.

“I am his mother now,” she growls, gesturing a manicured nail to him as she continues, “You... are nothing. You tried to make him strong by breaking his heart. I will empower him by tearing it out… You will have no impact on his life. If you come near him, I will destroy you.”

Asmodeus glares up at her. “He is dangerous.”

Lilith hums. “I know,” she says, smiles. “You are right to fear him. After the hardships you put him through… well, I expect he will come for you as soon as I allow it.” She leans close to him. “You will never rule Edom again. You will die in agony at the hands of your own blood, and he will come into his power.”

“You can’t do this,” Asmodeus hisses. “The shadowhunter—”

“What shadowhunter?” Lilith growls, enraged by the mention of the Nephilim. “They cannot come here.”

Asmodeus chuckles weakly. “There is a Lightwood,” he says. “He is enamoured with my son, and Magnus with him. The boy will come for him. He will not stop until Magnus is taken from you and returned to the earthly plane.” He huffs, pushes himself up when Lilith steps back a little. “Magnus will follow him. His love for the shadowhunter is stronger than his love for me or you, for anything else… You will lose him.”

Lilith’s mouth twitches in displeasure. “You go to earth and you tell the shadowhunter what has befallen his lover. You tell him and then you run. Magnus will come for you for his first kill as mine.”

Asmodeus swallows hard. “You can’t do this… You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Oh, I intend to find out,” says Lilith, a gaping hole opening in the floor, tinged blood red. “Run along now.”

Asmodeus screams as it drags him down, desperate fingers clawing at the edge of the pit until it widens too much for him to hold and he is sucked down. His yell of anguish and rage echoes strangely up to Edom’s ground until the pit snaps shut and swallows him down.

Lilith turns away in disgust, lip curled, but her expression settles when she sees him.

The boy is stood at a crumbling pillar that may have once been a doorway. He holds the stone with ring-adorned fingers, but the light that catches his jewellery is dull compared to that of the obsidian at his throat. It casts strangely when his mouth moves.

“Lilith…”

Black streaks spider-web upon the side of his neck. His eyes are golden and his pupils are slit like a cat’s. There are gold sparks at his fingers, his magic taking a new hue to account for a new power. Lilith can still sense a hint of mundane inside, but it is buried deep beneath the ichor purifying his blood.

“Magnus,” Lilith says as gently as she can. “You look much better.”

“I feel… strange,” says Magnus, lifts an absent hand to his throat, fingertips skimming the ridged lightning-crack of obsidian. “What is this…?”

Lilith hums and reaches to gently touch his neck. Magnus doesn’t flinch. “An unfortunate side-effect from using the ichor to heal your wound… How is it now?”

Magnus purses his lips in reluctant consideration, but his hands come to unbutton the first few clasps of his shirt, pulls it down by one side of his collar to reveal his collarbone. The gash is the centre of the web, the epicentre of the spread. His skin is black crystal.

“I had to pull a few resources from the pit,” admits Lilith, absently touches the filled-in wound. “Obsidian… It will protect you. Nothing can break it but heavenly fire.”

“Heavenly fire,” Magnus repeats curiously, not quite a question.

“Angelic energy, dear one.”

Magnus nods slowly like he understands. “Thank you,” he says suddenly, startling Lilith into meeting the golden cat’s eyes. “I understand what you risked by helping me. I should have killed my father when I had the chance instead of simply banishing him back here… He will not be pleased with you.”

“Your father is nothing to you now,” says Lilith. “I know what he did to you. You talk sometimes when you sleep.” The warlock turns his gaze away from her, brow furrowed at the wall. “There is nothing to fear, child. Asmodeus is gone. I have cast him to the Earth.”

The golden eyes widen almost comically. “You did what?” he demands, magic sparking his fingers. Lilith watches calmly at his lack of control, pleased by her work. “This is exactly what I attempted to avoid by coming here! I don’t _want_ demons loose from this realm.”

“To protect your friends,” says Lilith. “I understand. I loved once. I know the lengths we will go to save our most beloved… Your shadowhunter… you care for him?”

Magnus blinks rapidly, his eyes taking a distant cloud. “I… Alec… His name is Alec.”

There is a clacking sound from the arched entrance. Lilith looks to see an edomai creeping into the room. It crawls stiffly and unnaturally forward, turns a twisted head to Magnus, snarls loud and crackled. The warlock casts his magic out in a sudden rage, watching the lesser demon shriek and burn under his power, reducing it to ash in seconds. The fire lights the obsidian at his neck, casting it like lightning across his skin.

It flares a wild light in his eyes.

“Magnus,” Lilith says, concealing her anger—and her shock—as much as she can. “That’s not how we behave here. I understand you marvel at your new power, but your rage must be channelled appropriately. We must still maintain _some_ degree of control.”

Magnus growls inhumanly. “My blood is on fire,” he snarls, slamming a shot of magic to some half-melted candles, sending them flying into the wall with such force that the wax breaks and shatters on impact. “It burns. I don’t _understand_ what’s in my head. Forgive me if I’m a little irritable and I destroy a few of your repulsive demons.”

“Do not speak to me like that,” Lilith snaps, her own power flaring.

The crimson rush is cast aside by a careless sweep of Magnus’s hand and a crater burns into the wall of her castle.

Magnus glares at her, darkness encasing his eyes, shining in the fire-light of Edom. “You can’t hurt me,” he says, flames dancing at his fingers. “I am in constant pain. I don’t know what it means anymore. I don’t even understand what I am!”

Lilith allows her expression to soften, casting her eyes down briefly to quash her anger. “Pain will purify you,” she utters, reaching a hand to stroke a curved nail down his cheek. A slit of blood wells in the path of her nail, but Magnus doesn’t flinch. “You are exquisite… You are my Prince of Edom…”

Magnus clenches his jaw. “What do you expect me to do here if I cannot hurt your demons? I want to go to earth, but I need to contain them.”

“They obey you,” says Lilith. “They must. Your power is unrivalled here now, with the combination of blood in your veins. You are their prince… They would line up to be slaughtered if you commanded it.” She tilts his head. “But you won’t. You have much more pressing concerns… on the earthly plane.”

Magnus frowns. “I can never leave here. The rift will reopen.”

“It won’t matter. They will obey you, remember…? And, if they become antsy, I will remind them of who their prince is. I will keep the rift sealed for you if you desire it.”

Shaking his head, the furrow of Magnus’s brow simply deepens. “Why would you do that?”

“Because this is important,” Lilith says. “Because you must kill your father. He is a threat to that world and to ours… Go to earth and do what you need to. Do not hesitate this time. Do not give him mercy.”

Magnus breathes out slowly, looks down to his magic-engulfed hands. “Somehow I feel as though mercy is no longer an option I can consider.”

Lilith lifts her chin, struggling not to let her pride overcome her too soon. It is everything she had hoped for. The pain means nothing to him, the power courses in his veins, the blood of the Queen of Edom and the usurper king means that there is no dispute. Magnus Bane is the ruler of this realm. However, she knows that the boy must still prove himself.

“Take your revenge,” she orders, placing her fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up to her, “and return to me. You will return _immediately_ after the kill, will you not?”

Magnus nods shortly. “Yes.”

“Yes… mother.”

Magnus’s eyes narrow, golden irises glinting in the firelight of Edom. He pulls his head away, a sliver of disapproval in his eyes, those foreign eyes. Lilith forces a smile.

“We can build up to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to check out DarayFlair’s amazing podfic!! It sounds so incredible; I am in awe!


	5. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the institute, Alec struggles to maintain the composure of a leader as he seeks his revenge out of the man who took Magnus from him. An unexpected arrival sends the institute into panic and Alec questioning what he thought had happened in Alicante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @PhoenixStar73, @Adaline_Blooms, and @Maryliz2121 for your comments on chapter 4! Your kind words never fail to make me smile!
> 
> I've lost contact with @DarayFlair on the podfic front, but I really need to start getting these chapters out, so I'll keep you guys updated on that. Updates will be coming a lot more regularly now (hopefully 2-3 times a week)!

Alec is running on fumes and he knows it.

His entire body aches and his mind is racing and his stomach feels like it’s tied itself into knots that can never be worked loose. Magnus’s voice is becoming clearer in his mind, tormenting him with the echo of his dead love, as clear in Alec’s ears as if he is standing right beside him, living and breathing.

Alec does his best to ignore it. It is no use lingering unless he can have justice. Then, and only then, will he allow himself to mourn.

Institutes around the world are falling with massive casualties both shadowhunter and mundane. Perhaps this is Alec’s wishful thinking, but his gut tells him that it’s Jonathan; if only so he can have an excuse to go after Magnus’s killer with the full force of the institute at his back.

He barely glances to the shadowhunters following him through the Ops Centre as he gives his commands.

“I need a complete list of Institutes that have been attacked. We need to see if there’s a pattern. We might be able to establish a path and warn the institutes of his next likely targets. Until we can locate him, preparation is our greatest weapon.”

The shadowhunters around him are staring at him, eyes round with anxiety. They are afraid for him, but there isn’t time for their sympathy. Their sympathy won’t do any good. Alec simply glares at them.

“Now.”

Shadowhunters scatter at his command. Alec finds himself impatient with them all.

“ _They’re doing their best, Alexander… Even if they were in Alicante, they couldn’t have stopped it. You can’t blame them for a choice_ I _made._ ”

Alec swallows hard, fighting to ignore the voice in his head, knowing that it isn’t Magnus. It’s just an echo of him. Alec can still imagine what he would say in every situation, hear his voice and his tone as clear as if he were right beside him. Magnus is gone, however. Hearing his voice now just makes Alec a little insane.

The list gets to him quickly, the shadowhunters apparently motivated by his lack of patience. He sets it on a table and casts his hand to bring a screen up in front of him, a map of the word. With a pointed finger, he tags the Institutes that have fallen.

“Alec,” a voice says behind him and he glances briefly to see his siblings and Clary gathering around him. It is Jace who had spoken. “Hey, do you think you might want to take a little break? You haven’t eaten anything since before Alicante and—”

“Do you notice anything strange about these cities?”

Jace hesitates a moment before looking to the screen. His brow furrows softly. “Cairo, Shanghai, Istanbul, Tokyo…” He inhales deeply. “It’s the main Institutes… The biggest, the most populated ones…”

“It’s Jonathan,” Clary says decisively. “He’s doing this.”

“I called the London Institute,” Alec tells them, “and I reached their head. She told me that she has received multiple distress calls from all over Europe… The reports were confusing and there were a lot of languages for her to decipher, but there’s one phrase that kept coming up…” He looked to Clary. “Fallen angel.”

Clary swallows hard. “I have to stop him… Where is he going? Did London have any ideas?”

“London has fallen,” says Alec, “and you are not going after him alone.”

“Alec, he will kill everyone who goes anywhere near him. I’m the only one who stands a chance of talking him down.”

Alec casts a hand to dismiss the screen, turns on her with a twisted expression. “You don’t have a chance and neither do I!” he snaps and she stares up at him with softly narrowed eyes. “He killed Magnus.”

“ _Alexander…_ ”

Alec closes his eyes against the warlock’s voice echoing in his mind.

“He killed Magnus,” he repeats, forcing calmness, “and he’s going to die for that.”

Clary opens her mouth to respond, anxiety bright in her eyes, but she is silenced by the blare of a siren. The lights flash red and a sharp sense of danger fills the air.

“Everyone arm yourselves, now!” Alec yells at the room.

If it is Jonathan, they are as good as dead. None of the other institutes were able to stop him. They will be no different. Alec will be damned if they don’t try, however. They will go down fighting, like every other institute, like their ancestors, like Magnus.

“Sir!” a voice yells and someone hands him his bow and quiver full of arrows. “It’s a greater demon, sir!”

“Alec!” Underhill calls to him from the door.

Alec nocks an arrow into the string of his bow, runs to the entrance. A dozen different scenarios rush through his mind, a list of known greater demons. When he gets there, he skids to a halt because stood in the entrance of the institute with a dozen seraph blades pointed to him is—

“Asmodeus,” Alec growls, hiding his surprise under his anger.

“I am not here as an enemy,” says Asmodeus, his hands held up in submission. It’s a strange look on him. “Lock me up if it makes you feel safer, but I need to speak to you, Alexander. Now.”

Alec grits his teeth, waves a hand. “Get him to the cells.”

“Alexander, you have to listen to me!”

“Don’t,” Alec snaps, enraged by the use of his name. Only Magnus gets to call him that and Magnus is gone. “Maybe it’s hard for your pride, but we have bigger problems than you right now.”

“Jonathan,” says Asmodeus. “I know. I also know about Magnus. More than you apparently.”

 _That_ catches him off guard. Alec narrows his eyes and gestures with the arrow in his bow. “Move.”

Asmodeus does so, allowing Alec to herd him into the elevator. He is silent on the way down to the cells. Honestly, it’s a little awkward, especially when Alec considers that this man could have been his father-in-law under different circumstances. Alec fights to think of where to start. He goes with the most recent query.

“How did you get through the wards?”

“Your warlock isn’t here to maintain them,” says Asmodeus simply, glances to the shadowhunter. “You might want to consider calling another to strengthen them… Immediately.”

“Immediately is kind of in short supply right now,” Alec mutters, pressing the point of an arrow between the demon’s shoulder blades when the elevator doors ping open. “Move.”

“Alexander—”

“Move!”

The demon doesn’t try speaking again. He simply huffs, frustration and impatience bleeding out in the sound, and follows Alec’s command. The shadowhunter shoves him into a cell. The door slams shut and locks automatically and Alec glares at it a moment before wandering around to the front of the cell, the glass wall that separates him from the greater demon.

“What are you doing here?” Alec growls finally, glares at him through the glass, unflinching even when Asmodeus runs to slam a fist against it.

“He’s coming,” he says, his voice low with warning. “These walls won’t stop him.”

Alec lifts his head. “The cells are warded from magic and from demonic power. Now, tell me who you’re talking about and why you’re so afraid of them. Is this Jonathan? Do you know if it’s him attacking the Institutes?”

Asmodeus shakes his head, laughs almost manically and Alec watches him with stony eyes. “Jonathan… That child has no idea what is coming for him. No, not Jonathan, someone more powerful… He created the wards for this place. He can take them down just as easily. All the power of Edom is with him now. Lilith has been poisoning him with obsidian.”

“Are you talking about Magnus?” Alec asks, daring for a moment, just for a moment, to dream. “He… He’s alive…? You saw him?”

Asmodeus snorts softly. “Oh, no, Lilith won’t let a soul near her precious new child. I feel his power rising. He is stronger than me now; he was always going to be stronger than me in the end, but this…” He curls his lip in distaste. “Lilith has mutilated him.” He pounds his fist to the glass. “He was mine!”

“Magnus is not anyone’s,” says Alec firmly, taking a step closer to the glass. “Whatever Lilith has done to him, we will figure it out. _You_ will rot in here until The Clave decide what to do with you. Now, where is he?”

Asmodeus’s eyes flash gold, a perfect match of his son’s and Alec takes a sharp inhale. “Magnus cannot be saved… The second you see him, you kill him. If you don’t, he is going to kill me and anyone who gets in his way. He’ll kill you if he thinks he needs to.”

Alec grits his teeth. “Magnus is not like you.”

Rage flashes in the demon’s cat eyes and his lips part as if to speak. Crimson washes the room before he can utter a word, a deafening alarm sounding and Alec frowns, lifts his eyes to the ceiling. Something has set off the institute alarms again. Something demonic has breached their wards.

Asmodeus closes his eyes, ducks his head.

“It’s too late,” he utters, presses a hand to the glass. “Kill him before he destroys everything.”

Alec opens his mouth to speak, to challenge the demon’s words, to do anything except stand here and accept that Magnus—beautiful, selfless, love-of-his-life Magnus—is lost to him forever. He never gets the chance to defy the demon.

The ceiling above Asmodeus crashes downward, littering the inside of the cell with rubble and rock-dust. There is a moment of complete stillness; a moment where Alec Lightwood locks eyes with Magnus Bane and that brief spark of desperate relief vanishes like mist under summer sun. The golden cat’s eyes are hateful and wild. Alec doesn’t recognise the man staring back at him.

“Magnus,” he says, like if the warlock replies then it will prove he is real, then it might prove that Alec isn’t completely insane.

The gold irises flash with something soft, something darker like his glamour. For a moment, Alec thinks that Magnus might come to him, embrace him, tell him that he’s okay, that _everything_ will be okay. The trance is broken as Magnus’s attention snaps to his father.

“Magnus,” the greater demon tries to plead, but too late.

Alec is thrown backwards as a jolt of gold shatters the glass in a vicious shockwave. Ragged shards explode outwards and Alec lands painfully on his back, teeth gritted as he feels the hot sting of blood slipping down his cheek, the soft skin falling victim to merciless shards of glass.

Asmodeus is on his back too. Magnus stands over him, his hands alight with magic, power conjured by rage. Now that his body is turned a different way, Alec sees it. The forked rivers of black that creep up the side of Magnus’s neck, catching the light strangely when he leans down to his father.

“Magnus,” Asmodeus gasps again, “you don’t have to do this. Look at your shadowhunter. What will he think of you?”

Magnus casts his gaze to Alec, but there is nothing there in his eyes. “I’m sure shadowhunters understand that demons such as yourself are a threat to all,” Magnus replies, attention returning to his father. His voice is strange. “You caused me such torment… That cannot be forgiven.”

His magic flares and Asmodeus screams as he is engulfed by it. Alec has to look away, unable to bear seeing that mad rage in Magnus’s eyes. When he turns back, Magnus stands over a pile of ash.

Alec staggers to his feet, gaping at the remains of Magnus’s father, at the floor of glass fragments, at the magic, fading now from Magnus’s hands. The warlock looks to him, doesn’t put up his glamour. His mark glows unnaturally beneath the stark, artificial lights of the institute cells.

“You’re hurt,” he says, an observation and nothing more, unmoved eyes scanning the shadowhunter.

“It’s just a scratch,” Alec replies, instinctively trying to ease any anxieties that Magnus might have about being responsible for his pain. The warlock apparently has none. “By the Angel, Magnus,” Alec breathes out, taking a few steps closer, relieved when Magnus makes no attempt to flee. “I thought you were dead… What happened to you?”

A harsh spark of danger catches Magnus’s eyes. “You know what happened. I went to Edom to prevent demons destroying your city. I believed I would die, but, as you can see, I survived.”

Alec shakes his head, moves in closer, barely a metre from him now. “Sweetheart, your neck…” he trails, gestures to his own throat. “Are you hurt? I can get you to a medic, or I—I can call Catarina to help you…?”

“No,” Magnus says, firm enough to have Alec halt. “I don’t need your help.”

“Magnus—”

The elevator cuts off Alec’s voice and he whips around to see a group of shadowhunters piling out, seraph blades drawn and hurrying to the blasted cell, to Magnus.

“Hold!” Alec orders and the group stop immediately, still stuck in wary stances, low and anxious. The command that halts them is sharp and certain. Whatever he has done, Alec will not let them hurt Magnus. “Put your weapons away.”

“Sir,” one of them says. “It’s a greater demon.”

Alec frowns, looks back to Magnus. “You’re a warlock,” he says, looking for affirmation. “You only set off the warding because… because you’ve come from Edom… right?” Golden eyes search his own, narrowing softly. “Magnus…?”

“No,” Magnus says. “Your soldiers are right. I have demon ichor in my veins. I set off your wards— _my_ wards, I should say—because they recognised the demonic signature of my power. My father’s blood runs in my veins. Lilith’s now adds to it… It is natural that the wards confused my blood as that of a singular greater demon.”

Alec shakes his head. “But, you’re not—”

“A demon?” Magnus says, guessing the finish and quirking an absent smirk. “No, not entirely. I have elements of the demonic within me, but no, I am not a demon… I’m better than a demon.”

He blinks a little, a pinch to his brow like confusion, like he doesn’t know why he is saying all of this. Golden magic flares his fingers suddenly. A rushing portal cracks from his hand and he leaps through without another word.

“Magnus!” Alec yells, taking a hurried step forward.

The portal snaps shut before he can get to it and Alec is left with a roil of emotions in his mind and without Magnus. Again.

Only this time, Magnus is not dead. All that mourning, all those tears, had been in vain. Magnus is alive, and he knows that Alec didn’t come to find him. He is different now, however. His eyes were not the eyes that Alec remembers and that strange black crystal on his throat is foreign to him. Both Magnus and Asmodeus had spoken of Lilith. This was her doing.

“Sir.”

“Get me the analysis from the warding breach,” Alec orders, electing to slip back into his leadership mindset. It is almost instinctual upon hearing the voice of a subordinate. “I want forensics down here to search. They’re looking for anything that can identify what that was. Before anything else, I want proof that it was Magnus and not something impersonating him.”

“Yes, sir.”

The group returns to the elevator. All but one.

“Sir,” a familiar voice says and Alec turns to see Underhill beside him. “What will we do if… if it _was_ him?”

Alec looks back to the cell, to the shattered glass and the ruined ceiling and the pile of ashes that was Asmodeus; the carnage left behind. He knows in his heart that, even if it _is_ Magnus, it still isn’t really him.

That was not the man that Alec knew. If it is Magnus, it is a twisted version of him. Alec will not abandon him again.

“If it _is_ Magnus, then we save him.”


	6. Born of Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus returns to Edom in anger and confusion, struggling to make sense of his own mind. The boy at the institute was in his head, the shadowhunter with dark hair and darker runes and sadness in his eyes.
> 
> Meanwhile, back in New York, Alec defends his boyfriends actions to the rest of the group, determined that they will save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my commenters on the last chapter - @PhoenixStar73 and @Maryliz2121 - and to everyone who left kudos! Means the world to me to get feedback and to see people enjoying my work!

Magnus returns to Edom in a rage of confusion.

A demon shrieks curiously at him from some sparse shrubbery at the door of Lilith’s Keep and he snarls at it, his magic lighting the creature afire, burning it to ash in mere seconds of screams and dying gurgles. He moves on without giving it another thought.

He had kept his cool in front of the shadowhunters, but now he permits himself to his mortal-given emotions. It is mostly bewilderment and all that confusion—the simple fact that he doesn’t know what he is feeling—makes him angry. His memories are clear, but tainted with lack of recognition.

The people are familiar, the places, even the situations he was in, but it feels so wrong to have them in his mind. He is not the person in those memories anymore.

The one he sees there is a warlock, the former High Warlock of Brooklyn, a man harbouring power like no one else and concealing it, using it only for trivial matters or to help shadowhunters with such little appreciation for what he was. Magnus isn’t that man anymore. He doesn’t want to be on-call for shadowhunter problems. He doesn’t understand why he ever would be.

“Magnus,” a voice says and he glances back to see Lilith melting out of the shadows behind him. He doesn’t remember the journey to the height of her towers. “Were you successful?”

Magnus huffs, half amusement and half bitterness. “Well, my father is now a pile of ash in the New York Institute, if that’s what you mean.”

Something dawns in Lilith’s eyes. “The New York Institute…?”

“Yes, he was being kept in their cells,” says Magnus, looks down to his hand, to the storm of golden magic bursting at his fingers. He doesn’t bother trying to force it back. “Alec was there… I felt… strange when I saw him. I thought I would feel relief or joy or… _anything_ … but I didn’t. I didn’t feel love.”

“You are strong now,” says Lilith. “You’re above their level of emotion. A higher being.”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, I’m not. I still feel. I feel… confused. I know I loved him before. Now, I just feel… lust. He is mortal and a Nephilim, but he’s still…” Magnus curls his hand into a fist, breathes out slowly. “I don’t know what I feel anymore. I’m just angry.”

“Do you want him?”

Magnus closes his eyes. “I…”

“You are the Prince of Edom,” Lilith reminds him firmly. “Royal blood runs in your veins. He will not refuse you if you wish to have him. We take what we want.”

“No,” says Magnus, shakes his head. “No, I won’t have him against his will. He doesn’t want me.” He clenches his jaw. “He wants Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn… That isn’t me anymore. I haven’t been the High Warlock for a while now… I am the Prince of Edom. He is a shadowhunter. He will not have me like this.”

Lilith narrows her eyes at him. “What do you plan on doing?”

Magnus is quiet for a moment. He ponders it, thinks upon his mind and his past. It is difficult to see himself like that anymore. His memories are not unclear to him, but they feel as though they belong to another. All those bright moments, those warm mornings and hot nights, those images of a young archer with a mess of dark hair and hazel eyes and a rune across the side of his neck; Magnus doesn’t recognise them as his own.

“Nothing,” he decides aloud, lifting his eyes in time to see a sliver of relief touching Lilith’s dark eyes. “I don’t want him here, and he doesn’t want me like this… but this is who I am now. There is no changing that. _He_ cannot change that.” Magnus hesitates a moment, thinking back upon the meeting. “He wanted me to stay. He offered to help me.”

Lilith shakes her head. “It must have been difficult to hear that. I’m sorry.”

Magnus looks to her, a frown furrowed upon his brow. “Why are you sorry?”

“He wanted to _help_ you,” says Lilith, tilting her head as she puts a hard emphasis on that word. “He wants to change you, Magnus. Suggesting that you need help means that he believes you are sick. That you need to be altered… He doesn’t understand you anymore. He doesn’t know you.”

Magnus hums. “Well, it is of little consequence. I will likely never see him again.”

“Yes,” Lilith agrees and she seems pleased now. “We can be grateful for that. It is better to distance yourself from the Nephilim… You don’t belong with them anymore, Magnus. Your home is here. Your people will accept you as their prince. The shadowhunters would never continue their affiliations to you now that you are so powerful. They fear power.”

Magnus frowns softly. “Affiliations,” he echoes thoughtfully, glancing back to where the portal had snapped shut. “The shadowhunters… Some of them value downworlders… Perhaps they would be glad of demonic intervention from time-to-time.”

“What are you saying, Magnus?”

“I’m saying that maybe we needn’t be enemies all the time,” says Magnus, a pinch to his brow. “If we kill Jonathan like you want… it wouldn’t just be revenge. We would be saving the shadowhunters from his wrath. They might be grateful.”

Lilith curls her lip in disgust. “They are Nephilim. They can be grateful if we decide not to tear those runes from their flesh.”

Magnus hums and moves wonderingly to the vaguely squared gap in the wall that might have been a window. Through it, he overlooks the red wasteland of Edom, the sparsely scattered trees, dead and dark, the demons snarling and striking one another. His people. His prison. His kingdom.

“Magnus,” says Lilith behind him. “You cannot be friends with the angel-blooded.”

Magnus tilts his head. “I am not suggesting friendship,” he says. “I am merely stating we could at least consider an alliance of some sort.”

There is a strange sound behind him—like a bird flying too close to his head—and Magnus turns, completely calm, to see the room ablaze. Lilith stands in the centre of his all, her eyes black and reflecting the flames like the stillest and darkest waters. Her fingers end in talons, dripping ichor.

Magnus tilts his head, unaffected by the display. “I assume this is a threat. Admittedly, I’m unfamiliar with receiving them.”

“You will not offer help to the Nephilim,” Lilith snarls and Magnus turns to her fully, a slight pinch to his brow. “You do that and you will lose control of the demons. If they sense the angelic on you—if they sense weakness—then they will rip you apart.”

“They won’t,” Magnus replies. “I can control them. You said it yourself, I’m strong. I’m stronger than my father.” He looks to his hands, absently bringing the magic to his fingers, basking in the golden light. “I’m stronger than everyone… If I am challenged, I will prove my strength. I will slaughter the entire realm if I have to, but I will not accept death. Not again.”

“The Nephilim—”

“If they won’t accept alliance, they will die!” Magnus yells, gold flaring his hands and the light of his magic burns with hellfire.

A sly smile spread across Lilith’s face, white teeth flashing in the firelight. “Now _that_ is what I like to hear.”

* * *

“Absolutely not.”

They are piled into his office and Alec is glaring at his siblings, his friends. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest. He simply cannot believe what he is hearing. It was his sister who had first broached the idea and it is her who stands closest to him now.

“Alec,” Isabelle says, tilts her head a little. Alec hates the sympathy in her eyes, like she understands. Alec knows for a fact that she doesn’t. She could never understand. “You saw the warding analysis. You know it was Magnus who came into the Institute and killed Asmodeus. It wasn’t a demon or a shapeshifter; it was _him_. We have to stop him.”

“No, we have to _help_ him, not cage him like a goddamn animal!”

Jace steps forward to clutch his parabatai’s arm. “Alec, the Malachi configuration works. You used it to hold me, and if Magnus really is being controlled by Lilith like you say, then we know it can hold him. We can stop him before he hurts anyone else.”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Alec insists.

His siblings just can’t seem to understand that. Magnus is the love of his life, his future husband, and he will not have them talking about him like this, like he’s a dangerous beast that needs to be locked away. He is not a monster. Alec refuses to let them treat him like one.

Clary ducks her gaze slightly and takes a hesitant step closer. “Alec, he… he murdered his own father.”

“You have no idea what Asmodeus did to him,” says Alec, forcing back his anger but certain it made his voice tremble. “He abused Magnus for years, decades even.”

“Do you think that justifies how he killed him?” Isabelle asks. “Alec, Magnus turned him into a pile of ash. He burned him alive.”

Alec shakes his head, determined not to believe what Isabelle was trying to tell him, what they were all trying to tell him. “No, Magnus is… You never saw how he reacted about his father. Asmodeus manipulated him after his mother died. Magnus was afraid of him. Can you imagine him afraid of anything?”

Clary chews anxiously on her lower lip. “He was afraid for _you_ when Valentine was in the Institute with the soul sword.”

A weight slams down to Alec’s stomach at that admittance and he takes a breath to calm himself. “That’s exactly why I can’t let you use the Malachi Configuration on him. Not yet anyway.”

“Alec—”

“Jonathan is our priority right now,” says Alec, cutting his brother off before he can finish. It pains him to place Magnus second, but if it stops the other from treating him like a criminal and a demon then it is the best thing he can do for the warlock. “As far as we know, Magnus isn’t a threat to anyone.”

“But if he’s being controlled by Lilith…” Jace begins, his eyes bright with worry.

Alec nods. “She might want Jonathan back, I know. Which is why we have to get to him first.”

He turns and casts a screen up in front of them. Upon it, the Institutes of the world are represented in small dots. Those that have fallen are a stark red. Those still standing are blue and hopeful. Alec has drawn black lines to map Jonathan’s path and a single white line to his next likeliest target. He follows that one from London, taps at the end point.

The others edge forward to read the name that pops up.

“Toronto,” Isabelle says, glances to Clary. “Can you portal us in?”

“You’re not coming,” Clary says firmly, looks to her and Alec meets her eyes when he turns back around. She’s scared. “You can’t. Alone I might stand a chance, but if Jonathon knows you’re there… he’ll kill you all. I can’t portal you there knowing that you’ll die.”

Alec reaches to grasp her shoulder. “We go together,” he says. “We die together if we have to, but we will stop him as a team.” He looks over their little group, his family, and he can’t help but feel the absence even more now. “Obviously there’s no obligation to come, but I for one am going.”

“Oh, shut up,” Isabelle mutters, rolls her eyes. “Of course we’re coming.”

“Yeah,” Jace agrees, meets his parabatai’s measured gaze. “Jonathan might not have killed him, but he gave it a damn good try and he’s the reason Magnus is in Edom right now instead of here with us, so I’m doing this… For Magnus.”

A lump forms in Alec’s throat and he swallows hard as Isabelle repeats the mantra, his eyes flitting across her and to Clary as the young red-head agrees. Alec nods to them, hoping his eyes convey his gratitude as he fears he might cry if he tries to voice it. He turns to the screen, his eyes fixing on their target, on Toronto.

“For Magnus.”


	7. And So Fell The Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team touch down in Toronto to the scene of a massacre. Shadowhunters and mundanes alike lie slaughtered in the streets.  
> Jonathon has beaten them to it, but the shadowhunters aren't the only one's hunting him. Lilith and Magnus cut off his escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to @Maryliz2121 for your comment on the last chapter (and to everyone who left kudos)! You are the one keeping me sane because I rely wayy too heavily on validation from others.

When Clary’s portal spits them out onto the streets of Toronto, Alec knows that they are too late.

The city is barren and desolate. There is no movement to be seen. Car alarms blare all around them, lights flashing from the vehicles: stationary and immobile. Bodies litter the ground, mundanes and the shadowhunters who had tried to protect them all collapsed lifelessly in the street. There are no wounds on them.

“Oh god…” Clary utters, a choke to her voice.

Alec goes to the nearest body, a shadowhunter girl with her seraph blade drawn, and feels her throat for a pulse. In his logical mind, he knows it to be in vain, but he has to be sure. Her pulse remains non-existent beneath the pads of his fingers. She’s dead. Alec bows his head in grief.

“Ave atque vale.”

The alarms shut off suddenly, lights flickering and fading out, and the city becomes silent.

“What was that?” Jace wonders aloud, barely above a whisper in the eery lull.

The silence is broken from a shout further down the road. Alec gestures a sharp wave to gesture up the street, keeps himself low as he and his team sneak forward between cars that scatter the streets, their passengers and drivers dead inside. Whipping a hand to his quiver, Alec takes an arrow to slot into the string of his bow.

“Quick to replace me, weren’t you mother?” Jonathan’s voice echoes through the empty city and Alec signals for the others to stop. He himself halts behind a car, peers out over the bonnet to try and catch sight of the demonic shadowhunter.

It doesn’t take long.

Alec watches as Jonathon is thrown backwards into the centre of an abandoned intersection, engulfed in golden magic. It fades as he hits the floor, laughing manically. Dark wings sprout from his shoulder blades, feathers ruffled and unkempt. There is blood on his face when his head lifts and his eyes are fixed on something further down the road, blocked by motionless cars.

Alec cranes his head further so he can see. When a figure stalks out from between the cars into the intersection, it doesn’t look like Magnus Bane anymore. It looks like the Prince of Edom.

His jacket is black and high collared, embroidered and embellished with gold across the shoulders and the around sleeve cuffs. Four golden chains stretch taut and widthways across the breast to connect either side of the jacket. The succession of buttons lies polished and gleaming. His trousers are black too, his boots high and buckled gold.

Jewellery glints at his ears and fingers; gold rings and piercings studded with black gems. Every piece gleams in the light of his magic, keeping Jonathon at bay.

“Well done, Magnus,” another voice says, ringing out in the deafening silence. Lilith strides out behind him and Alec has to restrain himself from simply running at her. It’s her fault that Magnus is like this. “Be careful now. I will be the one to kill him.”

Magnus says nothing to that, but he does reel in his power.

As soon as it is gone, Jonathon struggles to his feet, his hand lifting in threat, but Magnus casts a careless gesture and a quick, golden flash sends him to his knees.

“Finish him,” the warlock calls back to Lilith. “To linger here is pointless. The shadowhunters will be coming for him soon enough.”

Lilith laughs, high and loud and Alec ducks back behind the car, winces softly as it rings his ears. “Oh, child, you must learn to widen your attention… They are already here.”

The car Alec is behind lurches and jolts and he hits the ground in a quick roll. It crashes to its side, slamming down to cover the spot he had crouched in barely seconds ago. Avoiding being crushed by a car is one thing, but he now he is exposed. Golden eyes burn into him.

“Alexander,” Lilith greets, casting her power to expose the others, tossing cars aside so carelessly that Alec is forced to duck and dodge again. “And you brought your betters, I see. The angel-blooded ones.”

“Magnus!” Alec yells, knowing that he has a better chance with him than with a demon. “I know why you killed your father. No one blames you… I also know that, whatever Lilith has done to you, we can fix it. We can figure it out together, but you need to cooperate with us. Please.”

Lilith snorts softly, tosses her hair back with a clawed hand. She says something to Magnus that Alec doesn’t catch from this distance. The warlock’s mouth twitches softly, but he says nothing in response. To Alec’s shock, the next step he takes is towards the shadowhunters.

In all honesty, Alec is ready to run to him. It is only Jace’s hand on his shoulder that keeps him back.

“You don’t know the extent of what Lilith did to him,” Jace says quietly. “Be careful.”

Alec nods, impatient, and steps forward, prepared to meet Magnus, to talk him down. A golden barricade erupts in front of him and with it comes a rush that forces Alec backwards in a stumble. Wide eyes lift to Magnus, mere feet away from him now. The warlock stops there, eyes them all in equal disinterest.

“Magnus,” Alec breathes out, shakes his head in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you here,” says Magnus in reply. It is nonchalant. Bored, almost. “Lilith is very keen to kill Jonathon without interruption. She fears you.”

Behind him, Lilith is shifting to her demonic form, her body twisting and morphing until a beast stands where she had once stood. Her claws slash easily into Jonathon, weakened now by Magnus’s power. Without the warlock on her side, Jonathon could have probably killed her with ease.

It isn’t so, however, and Lilith’s claws plunge into her son’s chest, punctures right out of his back. There is something in her hand, something black and wet. Alec’s stomach turns when he realises it is Jonathon’s heart.

Jonathan chokes and black blood slides from his lips. When Lilith wrenches her hand out, he crumples to the ground, all the colour draining from his cheeks, the wings fluttering and fading from his back, his hair darkening back to match his sister’s. Clary has her hands over her mouth, tears glossing her eyes. A demon he might have been, he was her brother. She might have loved him.

Alec understands that now.

“Magnus,” he says, taking half a step forward before another, more direct rush of magic shoves him back, tearing a gasp from his lips. It hurts. He hadn’t expected it to hurt, but it’s as if the magic stings him. “Magnus, please…”

“We’re doing your job for you, shadowhunters,” says Magnus, glances back to see Lilith morphing back into her human form, her work now done. “You’re welcome.”

Despair drags his heart and Alec takes a deep breath. “Magnus,” he says, drawing the cat eyed gaze to him once again. “Please, stop. You have to remember us. These people are you’re friends… and me, I—”

“I know who you are,” says Magnus, his head high and proud. “I remember everything. I recall you abandoning me. I sacrificed my magic for you and, in return, you cast me aside. I remember _you_ , Alec Lightwood. I remember you wanted me for my magic and nothing more.”

Alec shakes his head. “That’s not true,” he says, his voice choked with grief. “That’s not what happened. I did it for you, so you could get your magic back, so you could be happy. I did it because I love you.”

Magnus’s lips twist in a bitter smile. “You… love me.”

“Magnus,” Alec says, firmer now. His tone makes Magnus huff in soft amusement. It sounds so wrong. “This isn’t you. You aren’t acting like… like yourself. Whatever happened in Edom, whatever Lilith did to you, we can fix it. Just, please, let me help you.”

The laughter comes harsh and unnaturally grating and Alec winces. He is certain of it now. That isn’t his boyfriend anymore. Magnus is gone.

“What Lilith did was save me from bleeding to death in that burning wasteland,” Magnus replies, his eyes and the streams of obsidian on his neck glinting cruelly. “I am stronger than Jonathan. I am stronger than Asmodeus. I am the Prince of Edom… I don’t need you to help me. I am who I was always destined to be.”

“You were never meant for _this_ ,” Alec insists, gestures to the scene behind him. “Teaming up with Lilith. It’s not right, Magnus. This isn’t you.”

Behind him, Lilith stalks forward, comes to Magnus’s side. “You have no power over him now, Nephilim,” she says, her fingers clawing and casting crimson to her palm. She looks to the warlock. “Kill him.”

Magnus’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t take his eyes from the shadowhunters. “That was not our agreement. You said we would kill Jonathan and we would leave. You said nothing of killing these ones.”

“He betrayed you,” says Lilith enticingly. “He hurt you.”

“I can’t be hurt anymore,” says Magnus. “Killing him would be pointless. He is nothing to me now.”

Alec chokes a shaky breath, grief striking his heart to hear Magnus speak of him like that. The warlock doesn’t even acknowledge the sound. His eyes are fixed on Lilith now, challenging her almost.

“Are you fighting me, Magnus?” Lilith growls. “Remember who saved you while you were bleeding to death, abandoned by your friends and your lover.”

“I am not _yours_ ,” says Magnus, his head high and proud and Lilith snarls softly. “Just because you slaughtered your own son, it doesn’t mean you can use me as a replacement.”

Lilith screams in wordless rage, striking her magic out. Killing Jonathan apparently did not sit well, and Magnus’s defiance is only testing her anger. The warlock meets her with a jolt of his own, golden lighting cracking from his palms. Lilith shrieks as the blast overcomes her, sends her reeling back and clutching her heaving chest.

“If you trust me as your prince, you will let me handle this,” says Magnus and Lilith bares her teeth briefly, irritation written all across her face. She doesn’t make a move to stop him, however.

“Magnus,” Alec breathes out.

“Shadowhunters,” Magnus addresses them all, his eyes alight with golden fire. “Whatever you knew of me, you may cast it from your minds. Edom’s last rulers have been incompetent and the demons will no longer stand for weakness. They have had a taste of Nephilim blood and their thirst has yet to be sated. Now, with me as their ruler, I can guarantee a minimal demonic presence in your realm. We will take what we need, not what we want, provided you agree to cease your hunting of us.”

Alec shakes his head. “Their ruler…” he echoes, drawing Magnus’s cat’s eyes onto his face. “Magnus, no, you can’t mean—”

“I am the Prince of Edom,” Magnus declares firmly, boldly. “I have drawn power from the obsidian lingering in the pit. The demons are mine without question. Perhaps, if you remain vigilant, and tolerant of those with demon-blood, I can keep the Edomai from overcoming the Earth. We could have an alliance to join heaven and hell.”

“Magnus, stop!” Alec yells at him, runs to place a hand on his chest. It feels stupid, useless even, but it’s an action born of desperation and Alec can’t stop himself. “Please, stop this. You don’t belong in Edom and you are not their prince! Those same demons almost killed you!”

Magnus breathes out sharply, looking almost taken aback. “I take it this means you are rejecting my offer.”

“Your offer that means I lose you again?” Alec queries. “Yes, Magnus. I’m rejecting the idea of you leaving for Edom _again_. I can’t let you do this. You aren’t safe there… This isn’t you, sweetheart. Please.”

Golden eyes drift away from him, bored almost, and a restrained hand pushes him back. Alec can feel the power there behind his touch. If Magnus wanted to, he could toss Alec aside like a ragdoll. He could probably slaughter everyone around him with a mere flick of his hand.

He doesn’t. Alec wonders if that means he’s still in there somewhere.

“I’ll give you a chance,” says Magnus. “I’m afraid mercy is not one of my strengths, but I still retain some sliver of patience.” He lifts his head a little higher, regal almost. “Tomorrow, I will meet you at your Institute. I will come alone. Midnight. You will forgive the cliché.”

“Magnus—”

“Magnus,” Lilith snaps, almost cutting over Alec.

Magnus just smiles, like it amuses him to be the cause of everyone’s indignation, but within moments, he is sobering and turning to Lilith.

“I’m returning to Edom,” he states calmly. “Are you joining me?”

Lilith doesn’t seem happy about shifting the power dynamic, but she nods regardless.

“Magnus,” Alec says, his voice low and numb with grief. He is almost resigned to Magnus leaving him again, but he has to try. The useless desperation is costing him strength that he can’t afford to lose. “Please don’t do this.”

The Prince of Edom simply stares at him a moment. “Midnight,” he repeats. “Await me, Nephilim, and consider my offer.”

Alec doesn’t try to stop him, knowing his attempts would be in vain. He simply watches, his heart weighing heavy in his chest like an anchor without a tether.

In a flash and a rush of gold, Magnus and Lilith are gone.


	8. A Gold Crown, A Dark Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Edom, Magnus slips further into insanity and darkness. Even Lilith now grows wary of his power and demonic presence.
> 
> At the New York Institute, Alec and the others prepare a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to @veleda03 and @Maryliz2121 for your comments on the last chapter! I always love to hear your thoughts and feelings about how the story is progressing!

The second they enter Edom, Lilith is yelling at him.

“What in the name of Lucifer were you thinking? Uniting with the angel-blooded?” she shouts, grabs the back of Magnus’s jacket. “Don’t you _dare_ walk away from me!”

Magnus twists to her with an animalistic snarl, golden magic glowing in his eyes and flaring at his fingers and striking the obsidian on his neck with a terrible fire. Lilith startles backwards a step, her hand immediately releasing its grip. She warily looks him up and down.

“You’re turning feral,” she says, a hint of panic to her tone that makes rage flare in Magnus’s eyes. “The obsidian… I had hoped it would bring you strength, but you’re taking the power too far. It’s poisoned your mind.”

“You made me this way!” Magnus yells, a snarl to his enraged voice. “You made me your prince! You can’t complain now that I am too powerful!”

Lilith curls her lip up in disgust. “A prince does not rule. A prince is a symbol of his mother’s victories and strength. You do not rule Edom while I live.”

Magnus grins cruelly, that feral light in his eyes making the gold of his irises glow unnaturally bright. “When you fed me your ichor, you combined your blood with my father’s. I am the purest ruler that this realm has ever seen. I am stronger than you as I was stronger than my father.”

As he speaks, golden magic flares from his outstretched fingertips. Lilith watches with wide eyes as it drains into the red rock of Edom’s ground. All at once, every demon in the realm screams out. Lilith almost winces, having never heard such unison in their voices before.

“Edom is mine,” Magnus says, calmer now, almost a sigh, like uniting the demons has given him an overwhelming relief. “I am part of it as it is part of me.”

Lilith grits her teeth, rage sharp in the darkness of her eyes. “You are insane.”

Magnus hums, not sounding particularly bothered. “Perhaps,” he states, careless and nonchalant and bringing his hands in front of him. An object glimmers into existence in his palms, a circle of twisted gold. “It doesn’t matter anymore… I am not your concern.”

There is a moment of terrible silence. Lilith stares at him, practically shaking in anger. “I saved you,” she reminds him, her voice rough with forced calm. “I tended to you when you were on the brink of death. I could have left you to die. I could have left you abandoned by your friends and your lover… Instead, I gave you strength. I gave you family.”

“The two do not coincide,” says Magnus, quick and halfway to irritation. “You cannot be strong and feel love. You desperate need for a child is your greatest weakness. Allow me to absolve you of it.” He steps closer, uncomfortably so. “I am not yours. I am no ones. I will have allies, but I do not seek love or friendship because, as you have so transparently proved to me, it – makes – you – _weak_.”

Lilith would scream at him. She wants to hurt him; not to kill him, just to show him what he is dealing with, to show him that she is still the Queen of Edom. She can’t speak. Her mouth opens, gapes wordlessly, wide eyes staring at Magnus. The warlock tilts his head, smiles cruelly. He lifts his hands to place the object on his head.

It’s a crown. Obsidian gems sparkle from the twists of dark gold.

“I’ve had enough of your words,” he says. “I’ve had enough of you. Go where you like, kill who you like. I don’t care, but Edom and its demons are mine. Return upon pain of death.”

A hand casts out before Lilith can even think of protesting—although she isn’t sure she could even if she had the time—and golden magic flares before her eyes. It is the last thing she sees before being thrust out into a damp and poorly lit street somewhere on Earth.

The portal snaps shut with a crack like lightning and Lilith screams in rage.

* * *

The courtyard is dark and desolate and Alec stares out at it with a despondent gaze.

It’s almost midnight. Magnus will be here soon; Alec can only assume this is where he meant when he said he would meet them at the institute. The institute’s courtyard is a wide space where Magnus had summoned Azazel before. It is perfect for what they need to do.

Alec only hopes he has the strength to do it.

“Alec,” a voice says and he turns to see his brother coming up beside him. Jace pushes stray locks of blond hair back from his face when Alec looks to him. “Are you okay?”

Alec doesn’t dignify that with a response. “Is Isabelle ready?”

“She’s going to wait just inside the institute. When you give the word, she’ll come to complete the configuration and then she’ll—”

“No,” Alec says firmly before his brother can say it. “If we need to trap him, then we will, but I won’t let her do that to him. I only had her prepare it as a last resort. Before we do anything, I’m going to talk to him. I lost him once before and I won’t go through it again. There has to be some of him left.”

Jace is quiet beside him, but Alec hears him take a breath. “You saw him in Toronto… Tell me you recognised him, because I didn’t. He looked…”

“I know,” says Alec when he doesn’t finish. “Just let me try. I’ll tell you if we need to take action.”

“Alec—”

Jace’s voice is cut off when a circle burns into the centre of the courtyard. Alec breathes out slowly as the embers light into flames.

“Midnight,” he says. “It’s time.”

The fire stretches high, burning tongues of red and orange lapping the black sky. There are never any stars visible in New York. It seems so much darker now, however. Alec watches the flames climb up, centring until they vaguely resemble a figure. From that column of light, steps Magnus.

He is wearing the same outfit as last time Alec saw him, which is evidence enough that he is wrong. There’s an addition this time. A circlet of gold sits just below his hairline, studded with small black gems. They glisten like the lightning crack of dark glass at his throat.

“Alexander,” Magnus says when the fire dies, dusts soot and embers from his clothes with absent hands. “I trust you have had the time to consider my offer.”

Alec swallows hard. “Yes,” he admits. “I can’t do what you ask. The demons will still come to earth to feed and I can’t let mundanes die. We can’t stop hunting demons.”

Magnus inhales sharply through his nose. “Well,” he says, “that is disappointing.”

“That doesn’t mean this conversation is over,” says Alec before Magnus can disappear again.

The warlock tilts his head in curiosity. “Oh?”

“Magnus,” Alec utters, coming to rest a hand on his chest. “I know you’re still in there. Please, you have to remember who you were.”

Magnus’s hand whips up to grab his throat. He is shoved harshly backward, his feet hauled from the ground and sending him crashing into the wall. Blood spills the back of his throat and he rolls onto his side, coughs weakly to avoid choking on it. There is blood in his lungs.

“Alec!” Jace yells, races to his side and grabs his shoulder. “Magnus, what the hell?!”

“You may take that as a collective warning to avoid laying hands on me,” says Magnus. “I understand my history may be making this confusing to you, so allow me to make it completely clear… Magnus Bane is dead. You speak to the Prince of Edom.”

Alec shakes his head, as much as he can manage. “Magnus, no…”

“Alec,” Jace utters as his parabatai coughs up another mouthful of blood. Alec can feel the stele over his healing rune. “Alec, why aren’t you healing?” He looks to Magnus. “What did you do?!”

“He’s not healing because I am demonic royalty,” says Magnus, walking towards them. “Because the wounds I inflict cannot be sated by your runes. It is magic you need.”

Alec chokes and curls up in pain, his gaze shakily lifting to rest upon Magnus as the warlock—the demon—crouches beside him. “Magnus,” he chokes, swallows hard. “Please… don’t—”

He is cut off with a cry of pain and golden light washes over him, blinding him with light and heat as Magnus heals him. He recognises the magic as Magnus’s, having seen it so many times, having felt it under the warlock’s skin when they touched, but now it is wrong. There is something dark in his power now, fighting to be masked by the golden hue, but it can’t hide from Alec. It can’t hide from someone who knows it so well.

It is decided.

“Jace,” he gasps as soon as he feels himself heal under Magnus’s rough and careless power. “Now!”

There is the tell-tale _shink_ of a blade being drawn. Alec hears it strike Magnus’s flesh, opens his eyes to see Jace forcing Magnus back a few steps with his seraph blade. The warlock snarls at him like an animal. There is blood staining his jacket and some of the golden chains across the breast are broken and limp, but it isn’t stopping him from flaring magic to his hands. He will kill them if he feels the need to.

“Now! Do it now!” Alec yells.

The others run to their places and Alec slips his piece of the trap from his jacket, slamming into the ground along with the others. A barrier pulses upwards in a boxed cage and Magnus cries out and drops to one knee, fingers clawed against the ground. The crown falls from his brow, clatters onto the floor and rolls out to fall motionless at Alec’s feet.

The Malachi Configuration glows eerily in the darkened courtyard.

Magnus is trapped.


	9. Heavenly Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having trapped Magnus in the Malachi Configuration, Alec must do everything in his power to reason with the warlock, lest he risk losing his love to the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Sonia7atm, @PhoenixStar73, and @Maryliz2121 for your comments on the last chapter! My motivation is slipping at the moment, but knowing that you're here reading gets me through and it never fails to cheer me up.

Magnus is laughing at them.

In the past, the sound of his laugh was—in Alec’s perfectly unbiased opinion—the most wonderful sound in the world. Now, it is horrifying. It’s low and cruel and Alec can do nothing but stare as Magnus rises to his feet.

“Bravo,” Magnus says, golden irises flashing even in the weak light of the courtyard, his gaze resting immediately and singularly on Alec. “You were ready for me.”

“I was ready to talk,” says Alec, swallows hard as he forces his voice to come hard and firm. He has to be a leader now. “I was ready to find out if there’s anything of you left… I need to be sure.”

The way Magnus tilts his head is almost grotesque, angling too far like he’s trying to break his own neck. Alec forces himself not to look away. “You’re desperate or you’re oblivious. Either way, you’re a fool. The warlock who left you in Alicante… I’m not him anymore. I’m better now.”

“You’re not. You’re sick.”

Again, Magnus just laughs. Alec fights back a wince, forcing himself to continue.

“Look around you, Magnus. We were forced to trap you like a beast. The old you—the _real_ you—would never make me do this. You know how to control your power and you know what happens when you don’t. You told me about what happened to your step-father.”

“Yes,” Magnus says, unapologetic. “He was cruel and abusive. He hurt me, so I burned him alive. I did the same to my father. They both deserved it.” His eyes lift to Alec’s own, gleaming gold. “When I break from your pathetic excuse for a cage, I will do the same to you and your friends.”

Alec shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Magnus hums absent interest, wandering around the inside of the square, running a careful finger across the invisible barricade, making it spark and crack, burning his skin red and black. His expression doesn’t falter and the lack of emotion is the worst. It’s awful to watch him so deranged.

“Stop it,” Alec orders, still despaired to see him hurting even when it doesn’t show on the warlock’s face.

“Why?” Magnus says, his eyes calm and without a hint of pain as he lifts them to Alec. “Does it affect your delicate sensibilities to see me powerful?” He presses a palm to the cage, letting his skin sear as he leans close to drop his voice low. “Are you afraid of me, Alexander?”

“I’m afraid _for_ you,” counters Alec.

“Alec,” Jace says, pulls at his arm to tug him in back, angled away from Magnus. “We have to do it, now. He can’t be talked down. It’s demon ichor inside him. It has to be purged away.”

“Conspiring doesn’t work if you’re within earshot, boys,” Magnus drawls, smirking when the brothers look to him warily. “How exactly do you plan to purge me? You’re mortal and this cage of yours… well, it won’t hold me for long. I’ll break free soon enough.”

“It doesn’t have to be for long,” says Jace. “It just has to be long enough… Izzy?”

Golden eyes turn to search over Alec’s shoulder and they narrow slightly. Alec reluctantly follows his gaze, watches his sister approach. Glorious catches the light strangely in her wielded grasp. When Alec turns back to his boyfriend, concern grips his heart to see the warlock on the cusp of a smile.

“Well now,” says Magnus, looks to him. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“We’re going to save you, Magnus,” Alec promises, hoping his voice comes more confident than he feels.

The warlock just laughs, tipping his head back as the sound overcomes him. “You think this will save me?” he queries, shakes his head. “Oh, Alexander… Oh, you poor boy…”

He reaches out and Alec winces in preparation for him to be burned. It never comes. Magnus’s hand passes straight through the barrier, light fingertips upon Alec’s cheek. The shadowhunter gasps softly, fights to step back. Magic wraps around him, binds him in place, frozen.

“Alec!” Jace yells and Magnus casts a careless hand to him, striking magic against his chest and flinging him backwards. He does the same to the others. Clary and Isabelle grunt and hit the floor somewhere behind him.

“No,” Alec whispers, unable to turn his head or to speak any louder. “Magnus…”

The warlock smiles, steps from the cage, its walls meaning nothing to him now. “Alec,” he utters, stroking his fingers across the shadowhunter’s cheek. “If you think the sword will save me… someone has misled you.”

“It’ll purge the demonic power from your blood,” says Alec, fighting back the tremor from his voice.

“That is _all_ my power,” Magnus replies calmly. “It is my life-force. If you use your angelic sword on me, I die.”

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Jace snaps, struggling to his feet.

Magnus casts another absent blast of magic to knock him down. “Alec,” he says, his hand pressing to Alec’s cheek, his skin healed now, unburned. “It seems you are prepared to kill me.”

Alec shakes his head, a denial ready on his lips.

He never gets a chance to voice it.

Magnus slams him back with a jolt of magic and a cry of pain breaks Alec’s lips, something cracking too loud in his chest. He knows broken ribs when he feels them, although he never imagined Magnus would ever be the one to inflict such pain upon him. A gasp of anguish tears his throat as he tries to push himself upright.

“Magnus,” he whispers, lifting his eyes to the warlock as flame-like magic dances upon his fingers. “Magnus, please don’t.”

“You claim to love me and now I discover you would rather see me dead than see me as I am,” says Magnus, twists the magic a little so it cracks like lightning, like a tiny storm in his hand. “Make up your mind, Alexander. You cannot love me and also wish me dead.”

“I do love you,” Alec says, stiffens and grunts in pain as Magnus’s magic whips out to wrap his throat. “Magnus…”

“Do not lie to me,” warns Magnus, his voice low and terrible.

Alec shakes his head. “Not a lie,” he insists, chokes and fights for breath as the magic tightens painfully. “Magnus, don’t—”

There are footsteps behind him and Magnus tosses him absently to the floor, turns to meet Jace with Glorious, a jolt of magic casting the sword from his hand. A silver whips slashes to his arm, coils tight around him, but Magnus just tugs it closer, forces Isabelle to stumble and release her weapon.

The blade of Glorious catches wickedly in the artificial light seeping through the institute’s stained-glass windows and into the courtyard. It is blinding to Alec’s tear-glossed eyes.

He takes one look at Magnus, casting a dark and newfound power to people who used to be his friends, and scrambles to his feet, running to the sword. Grasping Glorious with both hands, Alec tries to ignore how abnormally heavy it is, how it resists him as if it knows what this will do.

Magnus turns on him just as he lunges forward and the blade hits with a sickening crack into Magnus’s shoulder. Obsidian shards explode outwards from the tip of the blade. The blackness drains from it as it breaks away, leaving clear crystal fragments raining to the ground.

Magnus screams. Alec wishes he were deaf at this moment, wishes he could block out the warlock’s pain. He wrenches the blade from Magnus’s shoulder, discarding it to the floor in favour of catching Magnus before he can hit the ground. His body is limp and cold in the shadowhunter’s arms. It’s as though all the life drains from him as the darkness flees the obsidian.

The warlock is paling by the second. The darkness fades from his eyes, the demonic power draining from him. The obsidian comes crumbling like a landslide from the tear in his shirt. He’s bleeding now. Crimson gushes thick and fast from the gash left in the wake of the dissolving obsidian.

Magnus breathes slow, shallow. His chest isn’t moving nearly enough. The golden eyes come to Alec’s face, settling there with a distinct lack of focus. Still, his hand lifts, his fingertips running light over Alec’s cheek.

“Alexander…” he whispers, something light and fond and so painfully familiar coming back to his eyes. “Thank you…”

Alec shakes his head, grabbing Magnus’s hand when it slips along with his eyelids. “Magnus,” he coaxes, squeezes his hand anxiously, but to no avail.

Magnus is unconscious. Blood stains cracks of translucent obsidian welded into his shoulder, but the crystal is shattering and falling away and beneath it is a fresh torrent of blood.

“Magnus…” Alec whispers again, closes his eyes when he receives no answer.

“Alec,” a voice says and he looks up to see Clary. “We have to get him to the medic bay.”

Nodding stiffly, Alec gathers Magnus up against his chest, fighting to ignore how limp and unresponsive his body is in his arms. The threat of Edom is gone. Another fight is beginning now; the fight for the warlock’s life. Alec refuses to let Magnus lose this one.


	10. In The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the fight against Magnus ends, the fight for Magnus's life has only just begun. Although Alec has managed to get him to the infirmary, the warlock's injuries may yet be too severe for recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @Nanuko8, @Sonia7atm, @Maryliz2121, @Adaline_Blooms, and @Vallier for your comments on the last chapter! Some more heartbreak in this chapter (very sad Alec), but I promise it will all be alright in the finale!

The injury doesn’t improve and Alec is fighting to keep his panic under control.

Magnus just keeps losing blood and, as a warlock, the medics can’t give him a transfusion lest they risk robbing him of his power and immortality. Alec won’t let that happen again, not after what they went through. They give him fluids through an IV drip, monitor his heartbeat through a clip on his index finger, change the bandages every hour or so.

None of it helps. Magnus remains unconscious and the bandages keep soaking through with blood and Alec paces anxiously around the room, clenching his nails into the soft flesh of his palms. He barely notices when Jace forces him into a stop and waves a stele over his healing rune. It doesn’t matter. Magnus is the one who needs help.

Catarina arrives a few hours into his treatment and immediately takes over her friend’s care.

“Cat, what’s wrong with him?” Alec demands when she steps back from her initial examination, magic fading away from her hands. “Why isn’t he healing?”

The warlock looks to him, her eyes glossy with tears. “His body is struggling to cope without the obsidian that was purged from him when…” She trails and Alec clenches his jaw, turns his head away. “The wound is reverting to the state before it was encased. Without the obsidian… I don’t know if it will ever heal.”

Alec swallows hard. “So, this… this is my fault. He’s like this because of me.”

“Alec,” Catarina says firmly. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

Though he doesn’t know what good it will do, Alec is ready to argue again. Maybe he wants Catarina to blame him like he blames himself. He wants her—or _anyone_ —to tell him that it’s his fault, that Magnus is hurt because of him. He wants her to scream at him, to hurt him how he knows he can’t hurt himself without ridicule.

He doesn’t get to chance to argue with her. The door slams open and cuts him off and Jace is there, panic in his eyes.

“It’s Lilith,” he says, halfway to breathlessness. “She’s here in New York. We think she’s coming for Magnus.”

Alec grits his teeth. Perhaps this is what he needs. Killing the demon who did this to Magnus might cleanse his conscience.

“Lilith and Magnus are connected,” says Catarina, cutting into his thoughts, her eyes and voice weighed with grief. “If you kill Lilith… It may very well kill Magnus too. She fed him with her blood, her ichor… A part of her lives inside him.”

“That could be the part keeping him unconscious,” Jace reasons.

“Or it could be the part keeping him alive,” says Alec, swallows hard as he tears his gaze from the comatose warlock. “We need to stop her. Magnus…” His eyes close briefly, emotion overwhelming him, and he takes a forcibly steady breath. “Magnus would want to take her down, regardless of the risk to himself.”

He lifts his head to Jace, filled with a steely-eyed resolve.

“Get a team together. We leave in an hour.” He turns to Catarina. “Save him,” he orders, a hand casting to Magnus. “I don’t care what it takes. Save him.”

* * *

In the end, the battle is short.

They track the Queen of Edom to an abandoned mill terminal on the Red Hook docks, a place untouched by life for years. They use Magnus’s blood to find her, the traces of her ichor within him resonating with the demon. It’s frightening how close she came to getting to the institute, to Magnus. They have to end this here and now.

Alec takes command with his friends and a squadron of shadowhunters, and Lilith falls to their blades and arrows. They are ruthless in their hunt. Lilith shrieks a demonic cry, a terrible, guttural wail, but all Alec can hear is Magnus and how he had screamed when Glorious pierced into the casing of obsidian.

The Queen of Edom falls and Alec feels no victory, only impatience to return to the man he loves. If The Angel is just, he won’t turn this on Magnus. If there is any good left in this world, Lilith’s death will not mean Magnus’s too. Alec can’t bear it.

There is a medic in the room when Alec hurries back to the institute, still with a quiver across his back and a bow over his shoulder, too anxious to see Magnus still breathing that he doesn’t dare stop to change before arriving. The medic casts him a gentle look as he comes to Magnus’s bedside and gazes down at him.

His eyes are closed. The bandages wrapped around his chest and over his shoulder are clean, recently changed. There are IV lines taped into his forearm and the back of his hand, a clip on his finger to measure his heart rate. When Alec looks to the monitor, he sees nothing out of the ordinary.

“He’s still asleep,” he says aloud, fighting to quash the disappointment from his tone. In his own ears, his voice just sounds hollow.

The medic cants her head in sympathy. “There’s been no change.” Alec presses his lips tight together and nods quickly. The medic gently touches his shoulder. “I can give you a moment alone if you need it.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, just… please, just stay with him. He needs a medical professional. He doesn’t need the man who stabbed him.”

“Mr. Lightwood, you didn’t have a choice.”

“No, I had a choice,” says Alec, swallows hard. “I chose to stab an angelic sword into the love of my life. I chose to hurt him rather than see him turn into a demon. I chose to kill him rather than accept him as he is.”

“It wasn’t him.”

Alec doesn’t reply to that simply because he doesn’t know whether or not it’s true. “I need… I need to go and write up my report on Lilith. Will you stay with him? Send for me if… if there’s any change.”

“Of course, sir,” the medic agrees quietly, “but I still think it’d be best if you stayed.”

Alec shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says simply, turning away from the sight of his unconscious boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

When he leaves the room, for a moment, he can’t breathe. He leans back against the wall, a hand lifting to his throat, too tight suddenly. Tears rush his eyes and he inhales sharply, deeply, fighting to control himself, to calm his desperate lungs, to force the heat back from his traitorous eyes.

He can’t stand to see Magnus like this when it is Alec’s actions that made it so. He’s the one who was holding Glorious, the one who stabbed it into Magnus’s shoulder, the one who held him when he fell. He watched the man he knew come back to those dark eyes, listened to Magnus’s final conscious words.

_Alexander… Thank you…_

He ensures that his eyes are dry and his breaths are steady before he departs for his office. Shadowhunters have been lost too, hundreds of them all across the world as well as in Alicante. His people need strength right now and they need it from him. As much as his body is begging him to break down, to just give in to his grief, he can’t. He doesn’t have that luxury.

Exhaustion mounts so much faster when paired with grief. By the time the next day is dawning, Alec’s eyes are heavy and tired and he feels as though he wouldn’t be able to stand if he tried. He has been working on his report all night and he’s barely three quarters of the way through. The words keep blurring in front of him.

Even when the door clicks and pushes open, he can’t find the strength to look.

“Sir,” a voice murmurs and Alec musters all his energy to lift his head, wearily locking eyes with a young shadowhunter at his door. “It’s Mr. Bane, sir… You told the medics to send word if there was any change.”

_That_ is motivation enough.

“What’s happened?” Alec asks, his hands leaning heavily against the desk as he pushes himself up.

“I—I’m not entirely sure, sir… I think he’s getting worse.”

The others are gathered around Magnus’s bed when Alec returns to the medical wing, hesitates in the doorway of Magnus’s room. Jace has his arm around Clary’s shoulders. Isabelle has her arms folded over her chest. Alec forces a deep inhale and walks into the room.

He is stony and silent as he comes to Magnus’s side, the others parting instantly to let him through. He sits himself lightly on the edge of the bed, pushes a gentle hand beneath Magnus’s hair to his forehead. His skin is ash-grey and freezing, yet damp with sweat. If Alec couldn’t see breaths move his chest, he might believe Magnus to be dead.

“How long has he been like this?” he asks. To anyone else, he might sound indifferent. To the people in this room—who know him better than any others—he sounds terrified.

“The medics aren’t sure,” says Isabelle dutifully. “It came on so quickly.” She touches her brother’s shoulder, lightly so as not to irritate him. “They’re doing everything they can, Alec. He’s got a heat blanket beneath this one. He’ll be warmer soon.”

Alec sighs sadly, ducking his head. “This is all my fault.”

Isabelle shakes her head. “Alec, this can’t be because of you. You didn’t make this happen.”

“You know it’s because of what we did with Glorious,” says Alec, swallowing hard. “Because of what _I_ did. Because I stabbed him. Because we killed Lilith. It’s…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s my fault.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” says Jace. “He would have killed you as a demon and we couldn’t let Lilith live. She would’ve kept coming after him. She would have killed everyone in this building to get to him.”

Alec takes a steadying breath. “Can you give us a minute, please?”

The others give him a unanimous nod. Jace clutches his shoulder and Isabelle drops a kiss to the crown of his head. Alec waits for them to leave, waits for the door to close, turns his head back to ensure the room is empty before his gaze is locking onto Magnus again.

The warlock is pale and still and Alec breathes out slowly, pushing his hand beneath limp fingers. Magnus is cold in his gentle grasp.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” Alec utters, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly. His fingers curl slightly around Magnus’s own. “We killed Lilith. She can’t hurt you anymore. I promise. I—I had to write my report on it. That’s why I wasn’t here.”

It sounds weak even to his own ears; a feeble excuse to cover the truth. He couldn’t bear to see Magnus like this. It was too horrible.

The warlock gives him no response. Alec’s eyes narrow in sorrow. The lack of answer isn’t what grieves him; Magnus has been unconscious since being hit by Glorious. What worries him is the pallor of the warlock’s skin, the way his breaths come like they could stop at any moment. He is so much worse now than when Alec left for the mission.

“Magnus,” he whispers on instinct, though he knows he can’t do anything. His head bows, inhaling shakily.

“Alec,” a voice says and he turns to watch Catarina coming around the end of the bed so she can stand on the side opposite him. “I came as soon as I heard. How is he?”

Alec shakes his head. “I don’t know. He just… He’s getting worse and he won’t wake up. I don’t understand why he won’t wake up.” He looks to Catarina as she sets a gentle hand to the side of Magnus’s head, her fingers woven through with magic. “Is it because of… because of what we did? Killing Lilith?”

Catarina frowns softly, closes her eyes. “He’s just… It’s like he’s empty. Like everything has been drained from him.”

Alec’s eyes narrow, biting his lower lip. “Cat… is he dying?”

There is a moment of almost perfect silence, broken only by Magnus’s soft, strained breaths.

“I don’t know,” Catarina admits, her eyes glossing with tears. “He’s just… Alec, he’s so weak. He’s really weak and I’m scared because I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Alec nods. “I know,” he says quietly, “I know, he’s always strong. It feels wrong to see him like this.” He looks to her, his eyes narrowing softly. “You can help him, can’t you? You said it’s because the obsidian is gone. Can’t you just—?”

“Alec,” Catarina says gently and her tone makes Alec bite the inside of his cheek. “If I replaced the obsidian, it would poison his mind just like last time… He would become demonic again.”

“There has to be something you can do,” Alec whispers, desperation taking over, consuming him. “Please, you have to help him.”

“Alec, I don’t know how,” Catarina says, shakes her head.

“He can’t die,” insists Alec, tears pricking his eyes. “Please, he can’t… I can’t let him die. Please.”

“Alec,” Catarina says, though her eyes are glossy with grief, “it’s okay. If it’s his time, then there’s nothing we can do to change it… but we can still be with him… This is his fight, Alec, but we can stay in his corner. We can’t fight this for him, but we can be here… Sometimes that’s enough.”

Alec shakes his head. “It’s not,” he utters.

“Alec, I can’t say for sure that he _is_ dying. We might just need to give him some time.” Alec doesn’t respond to that. Catarina’s footsteps echo softly on the floor and her hand drops to Alec’s shoulder. “You know better than anyone how stubborn he is… This doesn’t have to be it. He might make it through this.”

“Yeah,” Alec says, inhaling sharply through his nose. “He _might_. I don’t want false hope. I want the truth… and the truth is that he’s dying…” he breathed unsteadily, shaking his head, “and I can’t handle that… I can’t…”

His voice breaks and he ducks his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just… stay with him, okay?” Catarina says gently. “Stay with him.”

Alec listens to her go, hears her footsteps grow quieter and exit through a closing door. Tears streak his cheeks as he lifts his head, blinking to clear his blurred vision. Magnus is pale and unresponsive at his side. Alec pushes his hair back with a gentle hand, inhaling a shaky breath.

“Magnus,” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing a soft, close-lipped kiss to his boyfriend’s cold lips. “I’m so sorry, Magnus… I love you so much.” A soft sob gets caught in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m staying right here. I’m not going to leave you again.”

For the first time in his life, he can’t restrain his emotions. For the first time in his life, Alec Lightwood throws his arms down on the bed, buries his face in the crook of his elbow and weeps.


	11. Our Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Magnus finally wakes, he is disorientated and distressed, but Alec is determined to be at his side through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A BIG thank you to @Nanuko8, @Maryliz2121, and @Vallier for your comments on the previous chapter! I'm so grateful for your kind words; they have meant so much to be throughout this story.
> 
> Last chapter!! I've had so much fun writing this and I hope you've enjoyed reading it!

It is almost two in the morning when Magnus begins to stir.

Alec is beside his bed, as he has been every spare second for the past few days. It has been surprisingly uneventful in the institute. Alec suspects the others are hiding his duties from him, taking tasks for themselves so Alec can have more time with his dying boyfriend.

Catarina had been honest with him. Even if it is a terrible truth, Alec values honesty as a trait. It is better than giving him false hope. The truth of the matter is that no one knew if Magnus would ever wake. No one knew anything. Alec knows now, however.

His eyes widen at the soft shift of Magnus’s head, the twitch in his otherwise still expression, and he hurriedly grabs the warlock’s hand, holds him tight.

“Magnus,” he says urgently, free hand moving to cup Magnus’s cheek. He isn’t as cold now. He’s almost a normal temperature. “Magnus, baby, can you hear me…? I’m right here. Can you hear me?”

For a long moment, Magnus doesn’t move. Alec begins to think he imagined the initial stir. Just when he’s losing hope, and he takes his hand away, Magnus’s head leans into the empty space where Alec’s palm had been upon his cheek moments before. The shadowhunter holds him again, thumb stroking across his cheekbone, so much more prominent now. He wonders if Magnus has even eaten since before Alicante.

“I’m here,” Alec promises, leans in a little so he will be in Magnus’s eye line when he wakes. “I’m with you, Magnus. Open your eyes for me.”

There’s a moment of silence and stillness before Magnus’s eyelids slowly prise apart. The irises are gold, pupils dark and slit, and they reach Alec’s face immediately. The barest hint of a smile touches his lips.

“Hey,” Alec whispers, tears glossing his eyes, struggling to smile in turn. It falls when Magnus’s does, when the warlock blinks hard and his glamour comes up and realisation strikes his eyes. “Magnus,” Alec says, touching his jaw to coax the now dark eyes to his face. “Magnus, sweetheart—”

“I…” Magnus begins, his eyes flooding with tears. Despite that, despite everything, Alec breathed out in shaky relief, clutching his face with both hands. “Alec…”

“You’re okay,” Alec says, unable to keep the smile from his lips now. “Oh, Magnus… You’re okay. You’re back.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus whispers, his voice hoarse and grating and the tears threaten to break from his eyes. Alec shakes his head, but doesn’t interrupt just yet. “Once the obsidian was in me… I was gone, Alec, I—I was darkness… I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop…”

Alec is quiet a moment. “You’re back now,” he says, trying to bring himself some assurance as well as Magnus. “You’re safe.”

Magnus’s eyes fill with tears. “Alec, what did I do?”

Shaking his head slowly, Alec runs his hand through Magnus’s hair. “It doesn’t matter,” he says and a soft sob breaks the warlock’s lips. Alec’s hand moves repeatedly to stroke through his hair. “Magnus, look at me. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t you.”

“Just tell me what I did,” Magnus sobs shakily, grasping Alec’s hand and turning his face to it. “Please, Alec, I need to hear you say it. Tell me I’m a monster.”

“No,” Alec says firmly, pressing his free hand to the other side of Magnus’s face, pushing the tears aside with his thumb. “It wasn’t you, Magnus. You’re not a monster. None of this is your fault. Lilith was controlling you with her blood, with the obsidian.”

“But she wasn’t,” says Magnus, lifting his tear-filled gaze to Alec. “I chose to drink it. I wanted to do everything I did. Everything was so dark. I—I was bad, Alec. I felt it. I was a monster.”

“Stop saying that,” Alec whispers, his forehead resting upon Magnus’s head. “You are Magnus— _my_ Magnus—and you are good. It was Edom, it just… it twisted you. Made you into something you’re not.”

Magnus sniffs back a sob, breathing out slowly and turning his head more to face Alec. “I can see it all in my head. I hear every conversation.” He lifts his gaze to Alec, a hand cradling his cheek. “Alec, what I said to you… I—I didn’t mean any of it. It was just… When I was demonic, I just felt such… anger. I couldn’t control it.”

“It’s okay,” Alec says. “I know it wasn’t you, not really.” He lifts a hand to hold Magnus’s own against his cheek. “Just like I know that you’re here now. You never have to go back to Edom. You’re safe.”

Magnus swallows hard, takes in a forcibly deep breath, broken with a hitch of tears. “I want to sleep,” he utters, so defeated, and Alec’s eyes narrow.

“I can stay with you,” he offers softly.

Magnus shakes his head, not even possessing the energy to fake a smile. “I’m fine… I’m tired.”

Alec doesn’t try to push him. “Okay,” is all he says, letting Magnus’s hand back to the bed. “Sleep will… it’ll do you good. I’ll get a medic in to check on you. I’ll send Catarina in.”

Again, Magnus just shakes his head. “I just want to sleep,” he whispers, already closing his eyes. “I don’t want Cat. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Alec says when the warlock trails. He fights back the concern, forcing his voice to remain calm. “You can sleep. I’ll… I’ll go if that’s what you want, but I need to send a medic in to check on you. They won’t be in here for long. They just want to make sure you’re okay. One of them will bring you something to eat.”

Magnus doesn’t reply, simply turns over on the bed so his back is to Alec, his eyes remaining stubbornly closed. Alec strokes once more through his hair, closing his eyes briefly as a wave of grief crashes into him, but he forces collection and stands, leaves the room without another word. If Magnus doesn’t want him there, Alec won’t push to stay.

So, he does what he can. He finds a medic, tells them of Magnus’s consciousness, watches them hurry into the room. Although he aches to follow them, he forces himself to walk away. He hides out in his office. He doesn’t want to be disturbed right now. His mind is too preoccupied with Magnus to think of anything else.

He’s never seen Magnus so weak, so defeated, like he’s given up. He hates seeing his boyfriend like that, hates being reminded that even someone as strong and as powerful as Magnus can be hurt. All he wants is for the warlock to be safe and content. That would be enough. That would be _more_ than enough.

Mere hours pass before Alec is called back to the infirmary. Apparently, Magnus is refusing the food that the medics are offering him. Apparently, he is complaining of sleeplessness. Apparently, he seems somehow worse than before. During his hurry back to the room, Alec can’t imagine anything being worse than seeing Magnus comatose like that, but he understands it when he hesitates in the doorway.

Magnus is sat on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, staring blankly at the blanket that covers his legs. He doesn’t react at Alec’s approach. His skin is ashen grey, his eyes darkly shadowed, his entire body racked with soft tremors. He just seems empty. Alec hates that. He hates seeing Magnus like this.

He comes to the bedside, sitting himself on the edge. Still, Magnus doesn’t look at him.

“Magnus,” Alec says, guilt flooding him when the warlock startles.

Dark eyes look to him in panic, easing when he sees who it is beside him. “Oh, I… Sorry, I—I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s okay,” Alec says slowly, lifting a hand to comb back the strands of hair loose over Magnus’s forehead. “I thought you said you were going to sleep… You don’t look well, Magnus. You’re really pale.” The warlock doesn’t reply. Alec’s hand comes to his back. “The medics tell me you haven’t been eating.”

Magnus’s throat convulses as he swallows, lifting a hand to his head, refusing to meet Alec’s eyes. Alec presses his lips together briefly, unsure of the best approach. He has never seen Magnus like this before.

“Sweetheart, you have to eat something. It’s not safe for you to go on like this. You’ve been sleeping too long. You’re making yourself sick.”

Magnus simply shakes his head, his arm curling tighter around his raised knee. He doesn’t want to talk about it, that is clear. Alec can’t just let it pass, however; he needs to get through somehow.

“You need to stop punishing yourself,” says Alec, his words causing Magnus to blink unsteadily. “Do you remember what you said to me when I was struggling? When I was hurting my hands?”

Magnus hesitates a moment. “Don’t push me away,” he mutters obediently.

“Yeah,” Alec says, touches Magnus’s head and brings his fingers through the warlock’s hair. “It’s important, okay? It’s really important that you don’t push me away. You can’t take care of yourself right now, so you need to let me take care of you.” Magnus nods slowly and Alec forces a weak smile. “I’m going to get you something to eat, okay? What do you want?”

Magnus shrugs. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t know. I’m just tired…”

“I know,” says Alec, nods softly and offers Magnus his hand. The warlock takes it. “I need you to try and eat something before you sleep again though…”

Magnus swallows hard, closes his eyes. “Alec,” he says slowly, “what happens if I… if I’m never right again?”

Alec shakes his head. “What do you mean by that?”

“I just…” Magnus breathes out. “I feel wrong, Alec. I was bad and I hurt you and I can still _feel_ it. I remember doing it and I remember bruising your lungs and cracking your ribs and I remember not even caring—”

“Magnus,” Alec interrupts him, just hoping to calm Magnus’s hurried rambles. “It wasn’t you.”

“But it was,” Magnus whispers, stares up at him. “I can’t stay with you after that. I can’t—”

“Magnus—”

“I hurt you!” Magnus insists, tears glossing his eyes and he tilts his head slightly. “Alec, you can’t still love me after that—after what you saw.” He takes a shaking breath, ducks his gaze. “My step-father was right… I’m a monster.”

Alec is quiet a moment. He thinks through it all, through what had happened since Alicante, through Magnus’s actions under Lilith’s influence. He decides, then and there, that it doesn’t matter.

Slipping a hand into his pocket, Alec takes out a circular silver box, holding it in the centre of his palm so Magnus can see. It shines in the artificial lights of the medical room. The warlock wipes a hand to his unshed tears, a soft frown pinching his brow.

“What is that?” he asks, glancing between Alec’s eyes and the box.

Alec cants his head a little and places his other hand over the lid. “Magnus Bane,” he says, prising it open to reveal his family ring. “Will you marry me?”

The tears slip from Magnus’s eyes and race down his cheeks. A soft sob breaks his lips, his head ducking and a hand lifting to shelter his tears. Alec almost closes the box.

“Oh, hey, hey,” he utters, lifts a hand to push the tears back with his thumb. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Alec,” Magnus says, shakes his head, and when he turns his face to Alec again, there is softness in his teary eyes. “Oh, my Alexander… My beautiful Alexander, you’re so certain. I thought I understood you, but I don’t think I can this time… After everything that’s happened, why would you do this? Why would you still want me?”

Alec presses his hand to Magnus’s cheek. “You are everything to me,” he says firmly, continuing even when Magnus’s lower lip trembles. “You are my world and I can’t lose you again. I want to spend the rest of my life at your side because you are not a monster, Magnus. You’re beautiful. I love you.”

Magnus chokes on a sob and lifts a hand to hold Alec’s wrist. “I love you too, Alexander. I love you so much.”

Leaning forward, Alec captures his lips in a soft kiss. He rests their foreheads together when they break. Neither dare to open their eyes.

“Marry me?” Alec asks again, barely a whisper.

Magnus takes a deep and trembling breath, lets it out in a breathy sigh. “Yes,” he says, still a little choked. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Alexander.”

It is Alec’s turn to cry now. He doesn’t fully understand why the tears come, but he does know that he is so happy he feels his heart may burst. Cupping Magnus’s hand in his own, Alec gently slips the Lightwood family ring onto his finger.

“Is it okay?” Alec asks, runs the pad of his thumb over the surface of the ring, the capital ‘L’ imprinted in a circle of flame. “I know it’s a shadowhunter thing and you’re a warlock, but—”

“Alec,” Magnus interrupts him gently. “I love it… I love _you_.”

Alec leans forward, presses his forehead against Magnus’s own, his eyes closed. “I love you too, Magnus.”

The darkness in Magnus had been terrifying to witness, but nothing was worse than seeing the aftermath, seeing him so feeble and defeated. Alec vows to himself that he will never allow Magnus to be taken from him ever again.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” he promises aloud. “Not ever. I’ll never leave you. I’m going to keep you safe. I will.”

“I know, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, his hands coming to clutch the nape of Alec’s neck. “I know you will.”

Alec kisses him again, just desperate to have him close, to have him safe. Magnus’s lips are chapped beneath his own, too thin and fragile in his embrace. Alec will get him eating and drinking again soon enough. They have stared darkness in the face and walked away victorious.

Magnus will need time to recover, of course he will, but Alec will help him through it. Maybe things would never go back to how they once were, but they will be together. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be them. Perhaps that could be enough.

Alec is going to be here for him. Though all of the inevitable nightmares and flashbacks, all the panic attacks that will more than likely haunt Magnus after this turbulent time, Alec will stay with him. They will fight this together. Until the end.

Forever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Prince of Gold and Glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061766) by [DarayFlair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarayFlair/pseuds/DarayFlair)




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